"I have noticed it," replied "his ludship." "Not so abroad, by no means, my man. In fact, on the home lines in Lunnon, it is quite the thing, you know, for the quality to make a fad of locomotive parties, and the accommodations for their comfort are quite superior to this, don't you know." "That so?" growled Fogg, with an unpleasant glance at the stranger. "Why, I've had Senators in my cab in my time, glad to chum with the crew and set back on the coal, jolly and homelike as could be--as you'll have to do, if you stay on this engine." "Remawkably detestable person!" observed the stranger confidentially to Ralph. "I shall ride only a short distance--to the first stop, in fact." "You are welcome," replied Ralph, "and if I can explain anything to you, I am at your service." "Thawnks, thawnks," uttered the pretentious passenger, and fixed his monocled eye on space in a vapid way. No. 999 was on schedule for the old accommodation run to Riverton. It was nearly a week after the interview between the young engineer and Fred Porter recited in the last chapter. Affairs had quited down with Ralph, and railroad life had settled down to ordinary routine of the usual commonplace character. There had at first been considerable interest for Ralph in the remarkable statement of Zeph Dallas that the original of the photograph of Marvin Clark, the son of the railroad president, was his mysterious employer. Further than that involuntary admission of his erratic friend, however, Ralph could not persuade Zeph to go. Zeph declared that he was bound by a compact of the greatest secrecy. He insisted that there could be no possibility of a mistake in his recognition of the picture. Ralph told him that a friend was very anxious to find his employer, and told Zeph who his friend was. The latter became serious, and acted quite disturbed when he learned that it was Fred Porter, whom he had met several times. "I'd like to tell you a whole lot, Ralph, but I can't do it!" Zeph had burst out. "Say, one thing, though; I'm going to tell my employer about Fred Porter being so anxious to see him, and you can write to Porter and tell him that his friend is all right and safe, if you want to. What's that address--I may get around to Porter myself." Ralph told Zeph. That same evening the latter left Stanley Junction, and Ralph had not heard from him since, nor did he receive word from Fred. Temporarily, at least, Zeph, Fred and the railroad president's son, Marvin Clark, the "Canaries" and all the peculiar mystery surrounding them, seemed to have drifted out of the life of the young engineer. No. 999 was about ready to start on her daily trip when the stranger designated as Lord Montague had appeared. As he stood against the tender bar and seemed to commune with himself on the crudity of American locomotive cabs, Ralph leaned from the window and hailed a friend. "I say, Graham," he observed, "you seem particularly active and restless this morning."