platform with his ticket in his teeth towards an already moving train.
At an open carriage door stood a lady in whom he recognized Miss
Ogilvy, who was imploring the guard to hold the train.

"Can't do it, ma'am, any longer," said the guard, between blasts of
his whistle and wavings of his green flag. "It's all my place is worth
to delay the Continental Express for more than a minute. Thank you
kindly, ma'am. Here he comes," and the flag paused for a few seconds.
"In you go, young gentleman."

A heave, a struggle, an avalanche of baggage, and Godfrey found
himself in the arms of Miss Ogilvy in a reserved first-class carriage.
From those kind supporting arms he slid gently and slowly to the
floor.

"Well," said that lady, contemplating him with his back resting
against a portmanteau, "you cut things rather fine."

Still seated on the floor, Godfrey pulled out his watch and looked at
it, then remarked that eleven minutes before he was fast asleep in
bed.

"I thought as much," she said severely, "and that's why I told the
maid to see if you had been called, which I daresay you forgot to
arrange for yourself."

"I did," admitted Godfrey, rising and buttoning his waistcoat. "I have
had a very troubled night; all sorts of things happened to me."

"What have you been doing?" asked Miss Ogilvy, whose interest was