"Gent ill 'ere, Joe," he threw over his shoulder, apparently addressing a colleague, whom Anthony could not see. "Give 'im a 'and up the platform." Anthony heaved a sigh of relief. The next moment he saw a burly station-constable--presumably "Joe"--step into view and put a broad arm tenderly about his master's back... Mr. Slumper stiffened and stood quivering with the peculiar vibration of a wire that is taut. The ridiculous figure attached to him stood still also, rolling its head foolishly. "Come along, sir," urged the official in a kindly tone. Mr. Slumper stopped shaking, took out his handkerchief, and wiped his face. Then he turned to the speaker. "It's all right," he said. "_I'll go quietly._" Anthony turned on his heel and walked out of the station. There was no more to be done. CHAPTER II THE WAY OF A MAID A footman looked out of an attic in Eaton Square with his pen in his mouth. After a moment's reflection he returned to his letter, added a sentence or two, and signed his name. Then he restored its cork to his bottle of ink, blotted the lines he had written, and, gathering the flimsy pages into his hand, leaned back in his loose-limbed chair with the consideration which that exacting skeleton required of its patrons, and proceeded to read. This, then, is our chance; and, since Lyveden will be none the wiser, let us forget our manners and look over his shoulder. _DEAR TOBY,--_ _By extracting a promise that I would write to you you did me a good turn, for, while my first report was rendered, from a sense of duty, I am making this one with a sense of relief--a somewhat scandalous admission. Of course a really good footman would keep his mouth shut. But then I am but an indifferent lackey._ _To say that I left my first place would be untrue. In fact, the place left me--rather tragically, as it happened: which reminds me that I must withdraw anything which I have written to you in disparagement of my late master. The poor man had worries I did not know of, and behaved to me very handsomely at the last, remembering that I might have troubles, when he could not think straight, so sore were his own._ _For a week, then, I became a country gentleman, living with my dog at a little inn where no ways met. By the end of that time I had got me another place._ _Yes, sir, I am in the service of the Marquess of Banff, sir. There are times when I go powdered. I have even hobnobbed with the scarlet livery of Royalty. I am, I assure you, a very deuce of a fellow._