The hands of the great clock over the fireplace crept slowly past 11.30 P.M., the hour named in the telegram from the shipping company as that at which the _Merlin_ passengers would reach Euston. Thence, with the best intentions, otherwise a fast hansom, the Hutchinson ladies could not arrive at the hotel much before midnight. Nevertheless, at a quarter to twelve, Grier showed some signs of restlessness. I have often thought that these physical indications of the psychic force pent up in certain tiny pyramidal cells situate within the cortex of the gray matter of the brain greatly resembled the throbbings and strainings and extraordinarily minute movements of a boiler getting up steam. Your inch-thick, riveted cylinder may be bolted to iron beams imbedded in granite-like concrete, yet the living power of steam makes its presence felt long ere the engineer bids the impatient giant get to work. And it was so now with Karl. He could not sit still. The vestibule was full of people waiting to meet the _Merlin_ contingent--oh, no, not of English people, but of Americans, anxious to welcome other Americans--yet Karl and I, amidst all the lively throng, enlisted the sustained attention of the inquiry clerk. Once, after catching his eye, an impulse of sheer devilment sent me to greet Mr. Schmidt most warmly. The manager, of course, being an affable man who liked to stand on pleasant terms with his patrons, was quite amenable to that kind of polite attention. We entered into a lively conversation for a minute or two, and I kept darting expressive glances towards the clerk. I am sure the poor fellow quaked. Quitting Mr. Schmidt, I rejoined Karl, and the inquiry clerk ran across the vestibule. He was most anxious now to be civil. “I have just heard of a telephone message from Euston,” he said to me. “There are ninety passengers for this hotel, and they will be here in a few minutes.” “The first station omnibus is just coming round the corner,” said Karl, quietly. “Maggie and her mother are in the next one, not in a hansom.” Now, from where we stood, there was no visible vehicle of the type mentioned. The clerk looked puzzled, as well he might, thinking my companion had commented on his statement. I knew what had happened. During my momentary talk with Schmidt, Karl had taken a peep beyond. Sure enough, almost at once a London and North Western Railway ’bus deposited the first consignment of _Merlin_ folk at the hotel entrance. Out of the next conveyance stepped two ladies whom I recognized, from the description supplied by Karl, as Mrs. Hutchinson and her daughter. I must confess that the sight of them gave me a shock, well prepared though I was for their appearance. Yet it is one thing to expect a certain experience, but quite another to undergo it--as, to wit, being ready for the sensation of a needle-bath and receiving the impact of the icy jets of water on your bare skin.