'Well, it's the old story; a lady's in the case,' said the porter. 'There's a niece there that's over head and ears in love with Mr Edmund--that's his name--and he pretends to be equally sweet on her. But if she had seen only as much of him as we have seen at this here station, she would never---- There's my foreman agoing into the shed! Excuse me.' With that the railway-man finished his pint and was off. I considered a minute, and then decided I was as well off where I was as anywhere; so I borrowed yesterday's _Morning Advertiser_ of the barmaid, and sitting down where I could watch the house, pretended to read. If any one had watched me, he must have thought I was most remarkably interested in the Money Market, for I had that part of the paper folded towards me without changing for a good half-hour. At the end of that time the door of Mr Byrle's house was opened and the son came out. I was ready for a start after him, let him go in which direction he might; but he came towards the _Railway Tavern_, my post; straight on, nearer, nearer he passed my door. I peeped out after him, and saw him actually come into the tavern, entering by another door the compartment of the bar next to mine! I was in the common place; he was in one of those divisions where 'Glasses only are served in this department;' and so on. There was some one there already, for I had heard the occasional clink of a spoon and glass, and a cough; but there wasn't more than one, for I had heard no voices. I now heard some one speak; I judged it to be young Mr Byrle, and I was right. 'Hollo, skipper!' he said, 'what have you been doing to your face? Have you been fighting?' 'Fighting!--Well, never mind my face; I don't want to talk about that; I shall settle that account some day,' said a voice. (_I_ knew what voice; _I_ knew what was the matter with the man's face.) His surly tone seemed to shut young Mr Byrle up on the subject, for he gave a sort of forced laugh and said no more about it. 'When do you sail?--for certain now. I must know to an hour to-day, for I don't like what I hear of things,' said Mr Byrle. 'Don't speak so loud,' said the other; 'you can never tell who is listening;' and there he was more thoroughly right than he suspected. However, they dropped their voices so completely after this, that though I sat right up against the partition, I could hear nothing more than a stray word or so, out of which I could make no sense, until at last Mr Byrle said: 'Time's about up, skipper.' 'I suppose so,' said the other. 'Well, you feel quite confident about her then; her courage won't fail, you think?' '_Her_ courage fail? Ha, ha! skipper,' said Mr Byrle; 'you don't know her, or you wouldn't say that. She'll come with the material, you'll see. From first to last she's never wavered; and look what a penetrating mind she has got!' 'Yes; she's clever, I think,' says the skipper.