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looking up and down the platform with anxiety
that increased as the time drew near for the
departure of the train.
"This is very unfortunate," he said, reluctantly
stepping into an empty smoking compartment as
the guard executed a flourish with his green
flag. "I am afraid we have missed our friend."
He closed the door, and, as the train began to
move, thrust his head out of the window.
"Now I wonder if that will be he," he continued.
"If so, he has caught the train by the skin of
his teeth, and is now in one of the rear
The subject of Thorndyke's speculations was Mr.
Edward Stopford, of the firm of Stopford and
Myers, of Portugal Street, solicitors, and his
connection with us at present arose out of a
telegram that had reached our chambers on the
THE attendant at the cloak room at
Fenchurch Street Station glanced at the ticket
which had just been handed to him by a tall,
hawk-faced and rather anxious-looking man, and
ran an inquiring eye over the assemblage of
trunks, bags and other objects that crowded the
floor of the room.
"Wooden, iron-bound case, you said?" he
"Yes. Name of Dobson on the label. That looks
like the one," he added, craning over the
barrier and watching eagerly as the attendant
threaded his way among the litter of packages.
"Dobson it is," the man confirmed, stooping over
the case, and, with an obviously puzzled
expression, comparing the ticket that had been
pasted on it with the counterfoil which he held
in his hand. "Rum affair, though," he added. "It
seems to be your case but it has got the wrong
number on it. Will you come in and have a look
at it and see that it is all right?"...
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