‘You know, or perhaps you don’t, that I go in a good deal for racing. I have a small stable not far from Bath, and I make a bit off dealing and training as well as on the course. For some time I have wanted another horse, and there was one for sale near Montrose that seemed the thing, so much so that I determined to run down and see it. I have a good many engagements, mostly of a social kind, and I found that the only day I could go was the Thursday of last week—the day after my poor Uncle disappeared. There was an “At Home” at the Duchess of Frothingham’s on the Wednesday afternoon, and a ball at Lincolnshire House on Friday evening, at both of which I wished to be present, so I decided to travel to Montrose by the night train on Wednesday, see the horse on Thursday, return to London that night, and get some sleep on Friday, so as to be fresh for the evening. ‘This programme I carried out, but not quite as I had intended. I was at the Duchess of Frothingham’s till a little after five, when I returned home, dined and drove to King’s Cross to catch the 7.15 for the north. This train was due at Montrose about 5.30 the next morning, and it was my intention to drive the three or four miles out to the training stables and see the horses at their early exercise, returning to town when convenient. ‘I reached King’s Cross in good time, found the sleeping berth which I had engaged was ready for me, deposited my things therein, and began to make myself comfortable. Wishing to smoke I drew out my cigar-case, and then I discovered it was empty. I was considerably annoyed, not only for my own sake, but because I wished to be able to offer a smoke to the man with whom I hoped to deal. I glanced at my watch. It was still ten minutes past seven. Thinking I had plenty of time I seized my hat and ran to the refreshment room, which was close by. As I was selecting some cigars I glanced up at the refreshment room clock. It was pointing to 7.15. ‘“Your clock’s fast, I suppose?” I said. ‘“No, I don’t think so,” the girl answered. ‘I left the cigars on the counter and ran out on the platform. But the clock was right, and all I saw was my train moving off. It was already going too fast to board, and I had to accept the fact that it was gone with my luggage in the sleeping berth. ‘I looked at my watch. It was still showing two minutes to the quarter. It was usually an excellent timekeeper, but in some way which I can’t account for just on the occasion that mattered, it was three minutes slow. Pretty maddening, wasn’t it?’ ‘It’s the way things happen,’ said Tanner philosophically.