The station-master was prepared to do everything in his power, but that did not extend to altering the times of the trains or shortening the mileage they had to travel. He wired for the suit-case to be put out at Medford, the next stop, some forty miles on, and sent back by the next up-train. "But that," he explained, "is a slow one and is not due here till 9.47. However, I'll send it on directly it arrives, and you should get it by ten o'clock or a few minutes after. You are staying at the _Lion_?" "Yes." "Not more than ten or twelve minutes' drive. I'll do my best and there shall be no delay." The two men thanked him and walked out to the station yard, where a porter waited with the rest of Gifford's luggage. "There is a gentleman here going to the _Lion_" he said with a rather embarrassed air; "I told him your fly was engaged, sir; but he said perhaps you would let him share it with you." Kelson looked black. "I like the way some people have of taking things for granted. Cheek, I call it. He had better wait or walk." "The gentleman said he was in a hurry, sir," the porter observed apologetically. "No reason why he should squash us up in the fly," Kelson returned. "I'll have a word with the gentleman. Where is he?" "I think he is in the fly, sir." "The devil he is! We'll have him out, Hugh. Infernally cool." And he strode off towards the waiting fly. "Better see what sort of chap he is before you go for him, Harry," Gifford said deprecatingly as he followed. He knew his masterful friend's quick temper, and anticipated a row. "If you don't mind, this is my fly, sir," Kelson was saying as Gifford reached him. "The porter told me it was the _Golden Lion_ conveyance," a strong, deeply modulated voice replied from the fly. "And I think he told you it was engaged," Kelson rejoined bluffly. "I did not quite understand that," the voice of the occupant replied in an even tone. "I am sorry if there has been any misunderstanding; but as I am going to the hotel--" "That is no reason why you should take our fly," Kelson retorted, his temper rising at the other's coolness. "I must ask you to vacate it at once," he added with heat. "How many of you are there?" The man leaned forward showing in the doorway a handsome face, dark almost to swarthiness. "Only two? Surely there is no need to turn me out. You don't want to play the dog in the manger. There is room for all three, and I shall be happy to contribute my share of the fare." "I don't want anything of the sort--" Kelson was beginning angrily when Gifford intervened pacifically. "It is all right, Harry. We can squeeze in. The fellow seems more or less a gentleman; don't let's be churlish," he added in an undertone. "But it is infernal impudence," Kelson protested. "Yes; but we don't want a row. It is not as though there was another conveyance he could take."