Only one hesitated. He was a long, lean young man, black from head to foot with soot and oil. His left arm was badly burned; and seeing a doctor disengaged at last, he came forward to have it dressed. The big man in the heavy overcoat approached him. "My name is Caversham," he said. "I happen to be a director of the company. If you will give me your name and address I will see to it that your services to-night are suitably recognized. The way you got those two children out of the first coach was splendid, if I may be allowed to say so. We did not even know they were there." The young man's teeth suddenly flashed out into a white smile against the blackness of his face. "Neither did I, sir," he said. "Let me introduce you to the responsible party." He whistled. Out of the gray dawn loomed an eerie monster, badly singed, wagging its tail. "Scally, old man," said the curate, "this gentleman wants to present you with an illuminated address. Thank him prettily!" Then, to the doctor: "I'm ever so much obliged to you; it's quite comfortable now." He began stiffly to pull on his coat and waistcoat. Lord Caversham, lending a hand, noted the waistcoat and said quickly:-- "Will you travel in my compartment? I should like to have a word with you if I may." "I think I had better go and have a look at those poor folks in the sleeper first," replied the curate. "They may require my services professionally." "At the Junction, then, perhaps?" suggested Lord Caversham. At the Junction, however, the curate found a special waiting to proceed north by a loop line; and, being in no mind to receive compliments or waste his substance on a hotel, he departed forthwith, taking his charred confederate, Excalibur, with him. VIII Fortune, once she takes a fancy to you, is not readily shaken off, however, as most successful men are always trying to forget. A fortnight later Lord Caversham, leaving his hotel in a great northern town, encountered an acquaintance he had no difficulty whatever in recognizing. It was Excalibur, jammed fast between two stationary tramcars--he had not yet shaken down to town life--submitting to a painful but effective process of extraction at the hands of a posse of policemen and tram conductors, shrilly directed by a small but commanding girl of the lodging-house-drudge variety. When this enterprise had been brought to a successful conclusion and the congested traffic moved on by the overheated policemen, Lord Caversham crossed the street and tapped the damsel on the shoulder. "Can you kindly inform me where the owner of that dog may be found?" he inquired politely. "Yas. Se'nty-one Pilgrim Street. But 'e won't sell him." "Should I be likely to find him at home if I called now?" "Yas. Bin in bed since the accident. Got a nasty arm." "Perhaps you would not mind accompanying me back to Pilgrim Street in my car?"