He stopped operations once more to gaze off at the landscape, a desolate country scene to his city hardened eyes. Not a house in sight, nor a station. The spires of the distant village seemed like a mirage to him. This couldn’t be a station. What were those two doing down there anyway? Dared he risk calling the conductor and having him hold them? No, this affair must be kept absolutely quiet. Mr. Holman had said that if a breath of the matter came out it was worse than death for all concerned. He must just get off this train as fast as he could and follow them if they were getting away. It might be he could get the man in a lonely place--it would be easy enough to watch his chance and gag the lady--he had done such things before. He felt far more at home in such an affair than he had the night before at the Holman dinner-table. What a pity one of the others had not come along. It would be mere child’s play for two to handle those two who looked as if they would turn frightened at the first threat. However, he felt confident that he could manage the affair alone. He panted with haste and succeeded in getting the wrong legs into his trousers and having to begin all over again, his efforts greatly hampered by the necessity for watching out the window. Then came the distant rumble of an oncoming train, and an answering scream from his own engine. The two on the ground had crossed quickly over the second track and were looking down the steep embankment. Were they going down there? What fate that he was not ready to follow them at once! The train that was coming would pass--their own would start--and he could not get out. His opportunity was going from him and he could not find his shoes! Well what of it? He would go without! What were shoes in a time like this? Surely he could get along barefoot, and beg a pair at some farmhouse, or buy a pair at a country store. He must get out at any cost, shoes or no shoes. Grasping his coat which contained his money and valuables he sprang from his berth straight into the arms of the porter who was hurrying back to his car after having been out to gossip with a brakeman over the delay. “What’s de mattah, sah?” asked the astonished porter, rallying quickly from the shock and assuming his habitual courtesy. “My shoes!” roared the irate traveller. “What have you done with my shoes?” “Quiet, sah, please sah, you’ll wake de whole cyah,” said the porter. “I put yoh shoes under de berth sah, right whar I allus puts ’em aftah blackin’ sah.” The porter stooped and extracted the shoes from beneath the curtain and the traveller, whose experience in Pullmans was small, grabbed them furiously and made for the door, shoes in hand, for with a snort and a lurch and a preliminary jar the train had taken up its motion, and a loud rushing outside proclaimed that the other train was passing.