Having had his bicycle labelled "Swansea," he entered a first-class
compartment of the South Wales express. Though not lavish on his
expenditure he was travelling first because he still felt a little
uneasy in the presence of men--mostly men of the rougher type.
Perhaps there was a second class in those days; there may be still.
But I have a distinct impression that Mr. Vavasour Williams, law
student, travelled "first" on this occasion: for this was how
he met a person of whom his friend, Honoria Fraser, had often
spoken--Michael Rossiter.

He did not of course--till after they had passed Swindon--know the
name of his travelling companion. Five minutes before the train left
Paddington there entered his compartment of the corridor carriage a
tall man with a short, curly black beard and nice eyes--eyes like
agates in colour. There was a touch of grey about the temples,
otherwise the head hair, when he changed from a hard felt hat to a
soft travelling cap, showed as dark as the beard and moustache. His
frame was strong, muscular and loosely built, and he had clever,
nervous hands with fingers somewhat spatulate. His clothes did not
much suggest the tourist--they seemed more like a too well-worn town
morning suit of dark blue serge; as though he had left home in an
absent-minded mood intent on some hurriedly conceived plan. He cast
one or two quick glances at David; once, indeed, as they got out
into full daylight, away from tunnels and high walls, letting his
glance lengthen into a searching look. Then he busied himself with a
number of scientific periodicals he had brought to read in the
train.

Impelled, he knew not why, to provoke conversation, David asked