Prelude For War

'The nex' train, sur? Urse been in already.'

'What's that?'

The stationmaster pounced on a weed.

'I said, urse been in already.'

'I mean the train that left Marlborough at four o'clock.'

'Urse been in.'

'But it couldn't!' protested the Saint. 'It's never done that trip in forty minutes in its life!'

The stationmaster bristled.

'Well, urse done it today,' he stated with justifiable pride.

'What time did it get in?'

'I dunno.'

'But surely——'

'No, I dunno. It was five minutes ago be the clock, but the clock ain't been keepin' sich good time since we took the bird's nest outen ur.'

'Thank you,' said the Saint shakily.

'You're welcome, sur,' said the stationmaster graciously, and resumed his weeding.

The Saint ploughed back through the station on what seemed to be lengthening into an endless pilgrimage. In the station yard he found a new arrival, in the shape of an auto­mobile of venerable aspect against which leaned a no less venerable man in a peaked cap with a clay pipe stuck through the fringe of a moustache that almost hid his chin. Simon went up to him and seized him joyfully.

'Did you just pick up a young lady here—a dark pretty girl in a light-blue suit?'

The man cupped a hand to one ear.

'Pardon?'

Simon repeated his question.

The driver sucked his pipe, producing a liquid whistling noise.

'Old lady goin' on fifty, would that be?'

'I said a young lady—about twenty-five.'

'I 'ad a young lady larst week——'

'No, today.'

'No, Thursday.'

'Today.'

The man shook his head.

'No, I ain't seen 'er. Where does she live?'

'I want to know where she went to,' bawled the Saint. 'She got here on the last train. She may have taken a cab, or somebody may have met her. Did you see her?'

'No, I didn't see 'er. Mebbe Charlie seed 'er.'

'Who's Charlie?'