He was still staring at the closed window, when he was startled by the guard's whistle, and the slamming of the carriage doors. Turning quickly, he ran back, trying to find his compartment, but it was too late; the train was already moving. Flinging off a porter's detaining hand, he jumped on to the foot-board and wrenched open the nearest door. The impetus flung him headlong into the lap of a lady,--the sole occupant of the carriage. To his horror and amazement, instead of listening to his apologies, she uttered a piercing shriek and fell forward into his arms. For a moment Crichton was too dazed to move. There he knelt, tightly clasping her limp form and wondering fearfully what would happen next. At last he managed to pull himself together, and staggering to his feet, laid her gently on the seat near the window. Strangely enough, he had had no idea, so far, as to the appearance, or even the age, of the lady with whom fate had thrown him into such intimate contact: consequently he now looked at her with considerable curiosity. Her slight, graceful figure proclaimed her youth, but her face was completely concealed by a thick, black veil, which prevented him from so much as guessing the outline of her features. As she continued to show no sign of returning consciousness, Crichton looked helplessly around for some means of reviving her. More air was what she needed; so with much trepidation he decided to unfasten her veil. His fingers fumbled clumsily over their unaccustomed task, but finally the last knot was disentangled, the last pin extracted. The unknown proved to be even younger than he expected, and to possess beauty of the kind which admits of no discussion. At present, however, it was sadly marred by a red welt, probably the result of a fall, Crichton decided, which disfigured her left cheek. A minute before he had been cursing his luck, which invariably landed him in strange adventures, but at the sight of her beauty, our hero suddenly ceased to find the situation annoying. His interest, however, increased his alarm. What if she were dead or dying? Heart attacks were not uncommon. Bending over her, he laid his hand on her heart, and as he did so, the long lashes lifted, and a pair of sapphire blue eyes looked straight into his. Before he had time to move, she threw out both hands and cried: "Oh, let me go!" "Don't be alarmed. Notwithstanding my unceremonious entrance, I assure you, I am a perfectly respectable member of society. My name is Crichton." The girl staggered to her feet. "Crichton?" she gasped. He looked at her in surprise. "Yes, Crichton. Do you know any member of my family by any chance? My cousin, Lord Wilmersley, has a place near here." "No," she faltered, "I--I am quite a stranger in this part of the country."