Now there is nothing surprising in the shadow of a woman crossing a blind in the early hours of the morning; but when you have been assured a few minutes previously by the tenant of the house that there is no one within the building but himself, it _does_ become a matter of surprise, and in the present case everything tended to invest the event with a mysterious air. The woman, to judge by the outline of her shadow, was habited as if for a journey, and this, added to the fact that the light was now extinguished, induced me to extend the duration of my watch. No one came out, however, and as the London train would be departing in fifteen minutes, I deliberated as to the wisdom of staying longer. If I missed the train I should not be in time for the wedding, using the word wedding in a provisional sense; for, from the strange proceedings of the last hour, doubts began to seize me as to whether it would ever come off. I was loth to depart, but the desire of witnessing the scene that would take place at my uncle's house in the event of George's non-appearance decided my course of action. I determined to wait no longer, and, having applied both eye and ear to the keyhole of the strange house without learning anything thereby, I set off for the station at a running pace. Having completely lost my bearings, and being a stranger to Dover, I knew not which way to turn, and would have fared ill but for the guidance of a friendly constable. I arrived two minutes before the departure of the train. On receiving my luggage from the porter, I said: "You have not seen the gentleman?" "No, sir. He's not in this train. Not been here since you left." Having satisfied my curiosity by walking along the platform and scrutinising the occupants of every carriage, I returned, and said: "Find me a first-class compartment, all to myself." "One here, sir, with the brightest lamp in the whole train." If mine were the brightest, I pity those who were cursed with the dullest. "Put it in specially for you, sir." The lies some people will tell for a few paltry pence! Taking a corner seat, and calling for a foot-warmer, I leaned out of the window, keeping a sharp look-out in case George should turn up on the platform at the last moment. "I suppose my bro--the gentleman cannot now get to London before me?" "Not unless he has gone by the other line." "What other line?" "The L. C. and D." "What's that?" "The L. C. and D.?" repeated the porter, apparently astounded that any one should be ignorant of the meaning of those initials. "Why, the London, Chatham and Dover Railway? Their last train left twenty minutes ago." Here was a pretty piece of news! I could have written a long article on the numerous paved _viæ_ that radiated from ancient Rome, but I knew next to nothing of the lines of railway that emanate from modern London, and the idea that there might be an iron road to the great city other than the one I was travelling by had never occurred to me.