The train had stopped, as trains always do on English railways before entering a terminus. Presently it began to move forward hesitatingly, as if saying to itself, 'Now, am I really wanted here? Shall I be welcome?' Eventually, after a second halt, it glided slowly alongside the platform. I sprang out and ran to the cab-rank. I was aboard a taxi, bowling out of the station before the train had stopped. Peeping out of the window at the back, I was unable to see Sam. My adroit move, I took it, had baffled him. I had left him standing. It was a quarter of an hour's drive to my rooms, but to me, in my anxiety, it seemed more. This was going to be a close thing, and success or failure a matter of minutes. If he followed my instructions Smith would be starting for the Continental boat-train tonight with his companion; and, working out the distances, I saw that, by the time I could arrive, he might already have left my rooms. Sam's supervision at Sanstead Station had made it impossible for me to send a telegram. I had had to trust to chance. Fortunately my train, by a miracle, had been up to time, and at my present rate of progress I ought to catch Smith a few minutes before he left the building. The cab pulled up. I ran up the stairs and opened the door of my apartment. 'Smith!' I called. A chair scraped along the floor and a door opened at the end of the passage. Smith came out. 'Thank goodness you have not started. I thought I should miss you. Where is the boy?' 'The boy, sir?' 'The boy I wrote to you about.' 'He has not arrived, sir.' 'Not arrived?' 'No, sir.' I stared at him blankly. 'How long have you been here?' 'All day, sir.' 'You have not been out?' 'Not since the hour of two, sir.' 'I can't understand it,' I said. 'Perhaps the young gentleman changed his mind and never started, sir?' 'I know he started.' Smith had no further suggestion to offer. 'Pending the young gentleman's arrival, sir, I remain in London?' A fruity voice spoke at the door behind me. 'What! Hasn't he arrived?' I turned. There, beaming and benevolent, stood Mr Fisher. 'It occurred to me to look your name out in the telephone directory,' he explained. 'I might have thought of that before.' 'Come in here,' I said, opening the door of the sitting-room. I did not want to discuss the thing with him before Smith. He looked about the room admiringly. 'So these are your quarters,' he said. 'You do yourself pretty well, young man. So I understand that the Nugget has gone wrong in transit. He has altered his plans on the way?' 'I can't understand it.' 'I can! You gave him a certain amount of money?' 'Yes. Enough to get him to--where he was going.' 'Then, knowing the boy, I should say that he has found other uses for it. He's whooping it up in London, and, I should fancy, having the time of his young life.' He got up.