The engine screamed. Did that mean she was running through? Oh, how I wished I had learned the interpretation of the signals! Then gradually, gently, we began to slow. Were we slowing to pass the station only? No; with a jolt she drew up. My heart gave a bound as I read the word "Dunbar" on the station notice-board. I rose and waited, with my fingers on the door. Happily it had one of those new-fashioned slip-latches which open from inside. No need to betray myself prematurely to the detective by a hand displayed on the outer handle. I glanced out at him cautiously. His head was thrust through his window, and his sloping shoulders revealed the spy, but he was looking the other way--observing the signals, doubtless, to discover why we stopped at a place not mentioned in Bradshaw. Harold's face just showed from another window close by. Too soon or too late might either of them be fatal. He glanced inquiry at me. I nodded back, "Now!" The train gave its first jerk, a faint backward jerk, indicative of the nascent intention of starting. As it braced itself to go on, I jumped out; so did Harold. We faced one another on the platform without a word. "Stand away there!" the station-master cried, in an angry voice, and waved his white flag. The detective, still absorbed on the signals, never once looked back. One second later, we were safe at Dunbar, and he was speeding away by the express for Edinburgh! It gave us a breathing space of about an hour. For half a minute I could not speak. My heart was in my mouth. I hardly even dared to look at Harold. Then the station-master stalked up to us with a threatening manner. "You can't get out here," he said, crustily, in a gruff Scotch voice. "This train is not timed to set down before Edinburgh." [Illustration: "'YOU CAN'T GET OUT HERE,' HE SAID, CRUSTILY."] "We _have_ got out," I answered, taking it upon me to speak for my fellow-culprit, the Hindu--as he was to all seeming. "The logic of facts is with us. We were booked through to Edinburgh, but we wanted to stop at Dunbar; and as the train happened to pull up, we thought we needn't waste time by going on all that way and then coming back again." "Ye should have changed at Berwick," the station-master said, still gruffly, "and come on by the slow train." I could see his careful Scotch soul was vexed (incidentally) at our extravagance in paying the extra fare to Edinburgh and back again. In spite of agitation, I managed to summon up one of my sweetest smiles--a smile that ere now had melted the hearts of rickshaw coolies and of French _douaniers_. He thawed before it visibly. "Time was important to us," I said--oh, he guessed not how important; "and besides, you know, it is so good for the company!" "That's true," he answered, mollified. He could not tilt against the interests of the North British shareholders. "But how about yer luggage? It'll have gone on to Edinburgh, I'm thinking." "We _have_ no luggage," I answered, boldly.