by F. Anstey
3. _In the Toils_
"I beseech you let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation, for I never knew so young a body with so old a head."--_Merchant of Venice_, Act iv.
When Mr. Bultitude recovered his senses, which was not for aconsiderable time, he found that he was being jolted along through abroad well-lit thoroughfare, in a musty four-wheeler.
His head was by no means clear yet, and for some minutes he could hardlybe said to think at all; he merely lay back dreamily listening to thehard grinding jar of the cab windows vibrating in their grooves.
His first distinct sensation was a vague wonder what Barbara might beintending to give him for dinner, for, oddly enough, he felt far fromhungry, and was conscious that his palate would require the adroitestwitching.
With the thought of dinner his dining-room was almost inseparablyassociated, and then, with an instant rush of recollection, the wholescene there with the Garuda Stone surged into his brain. He shuddered ashe did so; it had all been so real, so hideously vivid and coherentthroughout. But all unpleasant impressions soon yielded to the deliciousluxury of his present security.
As his last conscious moment had been passed in his own dining-room, thefact that he opened his eyes in a cab, instead of confirming his worstfears, actually helped to restore the unfortunate gentleman's serenity;for he frequently drove home from the city in this manner, and believedhimself now, instead of being, as was actually the case, in thatmarvellous region of cheap photography, rocking-horses, mild stonelions, and wheels and ladders--the Euston Road--to be bowling alongHolborn.
Now that he was thoroughly awake he found positive amusement in goingover each successive incident of his nightmare experience with thetalisman, and smiling at the tricks his imagination had played him.
"I wonder now how the dickens I came to dream such outrageous nonsense!"he said to himself, for even his dreams were, as a rule, within thebounds of probability. But he was not long in tracing it to the devilledkidneys he had had at the club for lunch, and some curious old brownsherry Robinson had given him afterwards at his office.
"Gad, what a shock the thing has given me!" he thought. "I can hardlyshake off the feeling even now."
As a rule, after waking up on the verge of a fearful crisis, the effectof the horror fades swiftly away, as one detail after another evades amemory which is never too anxious to retain them, and each momentbrings a deeper sense of relief and self-congratulation.
But in Paul's case, curiously enough, as he could not help thinking, themore completely roused he became, the greater grew his uneasiness.
Perhaps the first indication of the truth was suggested to him by alurking suspicion--which he tried to dismiss as mere fancy--that hefilled rather less of the cab than he had always been accustomed to do.
To reassure himself he set his thoughts to review all the proceedings ofthat day, feeling that if he could satisfactorily account for the timeup to his taking the cab, that would be conclusive as to the unrealityof any thing that appeared to have happened later in his own house. Hegot on well enough till he came to the hour at which he had left theoffice, and then, search his memory as he would, he could not rememberhailing any cab!
Could it be another delusion, too, or was it the fact that he had foundhimself much pressed for time and had come home by the Underground toPraed Street? It must have been the day before, but that was Sunday.Saturday, then? But the recollection seemed too recent and fresh; andbesides, on Saturday, he had left at two, and had taken Barbara to seeMessrs. Maskelyne and Cooke's performance.
Slowly, insidiously, but with irresistible force, the conviction creptupon him that he had dined, and dined well.
"If I have dined already," he told himself, "I can't be going home todinner; and if I am not going home to dinner, what--what am I doing inthis cab?"
The bare idea that something might be wrong with him after all made himimpatient to put an end to all suspense. He must knock this scotchednightmare once for all on the head by a deliberate appeal to his senses.
The cab had passed the lighted shops now, and was driving betweensquares and private houses, so that Mr. Bultitude had to wait until thesickly rays of a street lamp glanced into the cab for a moment, and, asthey did so, he put his feet up on the opposite seat and examined hisboots and trousers with breathless eagerness.
It was not to be denied; they were not his ordinary boots, nor did heever wear such trousers as he saw above them! Always a careful andpunctiliously neat person, he was more than commonly exacting concerningthe make and polish of his boots and the set of his trousers.
These boots were clumsy, square-toed, and thick-soled; one was evenpatched on the side. The trousers were heavy and rough, of the kindadvertised as "wear-resisting fabrics, suitable for youths at school,"frayed at the ends, and shiny--shamefully shiny--about the knees!
In hot despair he rapidly passed his hands over his body. It feltunusually small and slim, Mr. Bultitude being endowed with what iseuphemistically termed a "presence," and it was with an agony rarelyfelt at such a discovery that he realised that, for the first time formore than twenty years, he actually had a waist.
Then, as a last resource, he took off his hat and felt for the broad,smooth, egg-like surface, garnished by scanty side patches of thin hair,which he knew he ought to find.
It was gone--hidden under a crop of thick close curling locks!
This last disappointment completely overcame him; he had a kind of shortfit in the cab as the bitter truth was brought home to him unmistakably.
Yes, this was no dream of a distempered digestion, but sober reality.The whole of that horrible scene in the dining-room had really takenplace; and now he, Paul Bultitude, the widely-respected merchant ofMincing Lane, a man of means and position, was being ignominiouslypacked off to school as if he were actually the schoolboy some hideousjuggle had made him appear!
It was only with a violent effort that he could succeed in commandinghis thoughts sufficiently to decide on some immediate action. "I must becool," he kept muttering to himself, with shaking lips, "quite cool andcollected. Everything will depend on that now!"
It was some comfort to him in this extremity to recognise on the box thewell-known broad back of Clegg, a cabman who stabled his two horses insome mews near Praed Street, and whom he had been accustomed topatronise in bad weather for several years.
Clegg would know him, in spite of his ridiculous transformation.
His idea was to stop the cab, and turn round and drive home again, whenthey would find that he was not to be got rid of again quite so easily.If Dick imagined he meant to put up tamely with this kind of treatment,he was vastly mistaken; he would return home boldly and claim hisrights!
No reasonable person could be perverse enough to doubt his identity whenonce matters came to the proof; though at first, of course, he mightfind a difficulty in establishing it. His children, his clerks, and hisservants would soon get used to his appearance, and would learn to lookbelow the mere surface, and then there was always the possibility ofputting everything right by means of the magic stone.
"I won't lose a minute!" he said aloud; and letting down the window,leaned out and shouted "Stop!" till he was hoarse.
But Clegg either could not or would not hear; he drove on at full speed,a faster rate of progress than that adopted by most drivers offour-wheeled cabs being one of his chief recommendations.
They were now passing Euston. It was a muggy, slushy night, with a thinbrown fog wreathing the houses and fading away above their tops into adull, slate-blue sky. The wet street looked like a black canal; theblurred forms, less like vehicles than nondescript boats, moving overits inky surface, were indistinctly reflected therein; the gas-lightsflared redly through the murky haze. It was not a pleasant evening inwhich to be out-of-doors.
Paul would have opened the cab-door and jumped out had he dared, but hisnerve failed him, and, indeed, considering the speed of the cab, theleap would have be
en dangerous to a far more active person. So he wasforced to wait resignedly until the station should be reached, when hedetermined to make Clegg understand his purpose with as little loss oftime as possible.
"I must pay him something extra," he thought; "I'll give him a sovereignto take me back." And he searched his pockets for the loose coin heusually carried about with him in such abundance; there was no gold inany of them.
He found, however, a variety of minor and less negotiable articles,which he fished out one by one from unknown depths--a curiouscollection. There was a stumpy German-silver pencil case, a broken prismfrom a crystal chandelier, a gilded Jew's harp, a little book in whichthe leaves on being turned briskly, gave a semblance of motion to thesails of a black windmill drawn therein, a broken tin soldier, someHong-Kong coppers with holes in them, and a quantity of little coggedwheels from the inside of a watch; while a further search was rewardedby an irregular lump of toffee imperfectly enfolded in sticky brownpaper.
He threw the whole of these treasures out of the window withindescribable disgust, and, feeling something like a purse in a sidepocket, opened it eagerly.
It held five shillings exactly, the coins corresponding to those he hadpushed across to his son such a little while ago! It did not seem to himquite such a magnificent sum now as it had done then; he had shifted hispoint of view.
It was too clear that the stone must have carried out his thoughtlesswish with scrupulous and conscientious exactness in every detail. He hadwanted, or said he wanted, to be a boy again like Dick, and accordinglyhe had become a perfect duplicate, even to the contents of the pockets.Evidently nothing on the face of things showed the slightest difference.Yet--and here lay the sting of the metamorphosis--he was conscious underit all of being his old original self, in utter discordance with theyouthful form in which he was an unwilling prisoner.
By this time the cab had driven up the sharp incline, and under the highpointed archway of St. Pancras terminus, and now drew up with a jerkagainst the steps leading to the booking office.
Paul sprang out at once in a violent passion. "Here, you, Clegg!" hesaid, "why the devil didn't you pull up when I told you? eh?"
Clegg was a burly, red-faced man, with a husky voice and a generalmanner which conveyed the impression that he regarded teetotalism, as aprinciple, with something more than disapproval.
"Why didn't I pull up?" he said, bending stiffly down from his box."'Cause I didn't want to lose a good customer, that's why I didn't pullup!"
"Do you mean to say you don't know me?"
"Know yer?" said Clegg, with an approach to sentiment: "I've knowed yerwhen you was a babby in frocks. I've knowed yer fust nuss (and a fineyoung woman she were till she took to drinking, as has been the ruin ofmany). I've knowed yer in Infancy's hour and in yer byhood's bloom! I'vedruv yer to this 'ere werry station twice afore. Know yer!"
Paul saw the uselessness of arguing with him. "Then, ah--drive me backat once. Let those boxes alone. I--I've important business at home whichI'd forgotten."
Clegg gave a vinous wink. "Lor, yer at it agin," he said withadmiration. "What a artful young limb it is! But it ain't what yer maycall good enough, so to speak, it ain't. Clegg don't do that no more!"
"Don't do what?" asked Paul.
"Don't drive no young gents as is a-bein' sent to school back agin intotheir family's bosims," said Clegg sententiously. "You was took illsudden in my cab the larst time. Offal bad you was, to be sure--to hearye, and I druv' yer back; and I never got no return fare, I didn't, andyer par he made hisself downright nasty over it, said as if it occurredagin he shouldn't employ me no more. I durstn't go and offend yer par;he's a good customer to me, he is."
"I'll give you a sovereign to do it," said Paul.
"If yer wouldn't tell no tales, I might put yer down at the cornerp'raps," said Clegg, hesitating, to Paul's joy; "not as it ain't cheapat that, but let's see yer suffering fust. Why," he cried with loftycontempt as he saw from Paul's face that the coin was not producible,"y'ain't got no suffering! Garn away, and don't try to tempt a porecabby as has his livin' to make. What d'ye think of this, porter, now?'Ere's a young gent a tryin' to back out o' going to school when heought to be glad and thankful as he's receivin' the blessin's of a goodeddication. Look at me. I'm a 'ard-workin' man. I am. I ain't 'ad noeddication. The kids, they're a learnin' French, and free'and drorin,and the bones on a skellington at the Board School, and I pays mycoppers down every week cheerful. And why, porter? Why, young master?'Cause I knows the vally on it! But when I sees a real young gent adespisin' of the oppertoonities as a bountiful Providence and aexcellent par has 'eaped on his 'ed, it--it makes me sick, it inspiresClegg with a pity and a contemp' for such ingratitood, which he caresnot for to 'ide from public voo!"
Clegg delivered this harangue with much gesture and in a loud tone,which greatly edified the porters and disgusted Mr. Bultitude.
"Go away," said the latter, "that's enough. You're drunk!"
"Drunk!" bellowed the outraged Clegg, rising on the box in his wrath."'Ear that. 'Ark at this 'ere young cock sparrer as tells a fam'ly manlike Clegg as he's drunk! Drunk, after drivin' his par in this 'erewerry cab through frost and fine fifteen year and more! I wonder yerdon't say the old 'orse is drunk; you'll be sayin' that next! Drunk! oh,cert'nly, by all means. Never you darken my cab doors no more. I shalltake and tell your par, I shall. Drunk, indeed! A ill-conditioned youngwiper as ever I see. Drunk! yah!"
And with much cursing and growling, Clegg gathered up his reins anddrove off into the fog, Boaler having apparently pre-paid the fare.
"Where for, sir, please?" said a porter, who had been putting theplaybox and portmanteau on a truck during the altercation.
"Nowhere," said Mr. Bultitude. "I--I'm not going by this train; find mea cab with a sober driver."
The porter looked round. A moment before there had been several cabsdischarging their loads at the steps; now the last had rolled awayempty.
"You might find one inside the station by the arrival platform," hesuggested; "but there'll be sure to be one comin' up here in anotherminute, sir, if you like to wait."
Paul thought the other course might be the longer one, and decided tostay where he was. So he walked into the lofty hall in which the bookingoffices are placed and waited there by the huge fire that blazed in thestove until he should hear the cab arrive which could take him back toWestbourne Terrace.
One or two trains were about to start, and the place was full. Therewere several Cambridge men "going up" after the Christmas vacation, inevery variety of ulster; some tugging at refractory white terriers, oneor two entrusting bicycles to dubious porters with many cautions anddirections. There were burly old farmers going back to their quietcountryside, flushed with the prestige of a successful stand undercross-examination in some witness-box at the Law Courts; to tell andretell the story over hill and dale, in the market-place andbar-parlour, every week for the rest of their honest lives. There wasthe usual pantomime "rally" on a mild scale, with real franticpassengers, and porters, and trucks, and trays of lighted lamps.
Presently, out of the crowd and confusion, a small boy in a thick pilotjacket and an immensely tall hat, whom Paul had observed looking at himintently for some time, walked up to the stove and greeted himfamiliarly.
"Hallo, Bultitude!" he said, "I thought it was you. Here we are again,eh? Ugh!" and he giggled dismally.
He was a pale-faced boy with freckles, very light green eyes, long,rather ragged black hair, a slouching walk, and a smile half-simpering,half-impudent.
Mr. Bultitude was greatly staggered by the presumption of so small a boyventuring to address him in this way. He could only stare haughtily.
"You might find a word to say to a fellow!" said the boy in an aggrievedtone. "Look here; come and get your luggage labelled."
"I don't want it labelled," said Paul stiffly, feeling bound to saysomething. "I'm waiting for a cab to take me home again."
The other gave a loud whistle. "That'll ma
ke it rather a short term,won't it, if you're going home for the holidays already? You're a coolchap, Bultitude! If I were to go back to my governor now, he wouldn'tsee it. It would put him in no end of a bait. But you're chaffing----"
Paul walked away from him with marked coolness. He was not going totrouble himself to talk to his son's schoolfellows.
"Aren't you well?" said the boy, not at all discouraged by hisreception, following him and taking his arm. "Down in the mouth? It isbeastly, isn't it, having to go back to old Grimstone's! The snow gaveus an extra week, though--we've that much to be thankful for. I wish itwas the first day of the holidays again, don't you? What's the matterwith you? What have I done to put you in a wax?"
"Nothing at present," said Paul. "I don't speak to you merely because Idon't happen to have the--ah--pleasure of your acquaintance."
"Oh, very well, then; I daresay you know best," said the other huffily."Only I thought--considering we came the same half, and have been chums,and always sat next one another ever since--you might perhaps justrecollect having met me before, you know."
"Well, I don't," said Mr. Bultitude. "I tell you I haven't the leastidea what your name is. The fact is there has been a slight mistake,which I can't stop to talk about now. There's a cab just driven upoutside now. You must excuse me, really, my boy, I want to go."
He tried to work his arm free from the close and affectionate grip ofhis unwelcome companion, who was regarding him with a sort of admiringleer.
"What a fellow you are, Bultitude!" he said; "always up to something orother. You know me well enough. What is the use of keeping it up anylonger? Let's talk, and stop humbugging. How much grub have you broughtback this time?"
To be advised to stop humbugging, and be persecuted with such idlequestions as these, maddened the poor gentleman. A hansom really hadrolled up to the steps outside. He must put an end to this waste ofprecious time, and escape from this highly inconvenient small boy.
He forced his way to the door, the boy still keeping fast hold of hisarm. Fortunately the cab was still there, and its late occupant, a tall,broad man, was standing with his back to them paying the driver. Paulwas only just in time.
"Porter!" he cried. "Where's that porter? I want my box put on that cab.No, I don't care about the luggage; engage the cab. Now, you littleruffian, are you going to let me go? Can't you see I'm anxious to getaway?"
Jolland giggled more impishly than ever. "Well, you _have_ got cheek!"he said. "Go on, I wish you may get that cab, I'm sure!"
Paul, thus released, was just hurrying towards the cab, when thestranger who had got out of it settled the fare with satisfaction tohimself and turned sharply round.
The gas-light fell full on his face, and Mr. Bultitude recognised thatthe form and features were those of no stranger--he had stumbled uponthe very last person he had expected or desired to meet just then--hisflight was intercepted by his son's schoolmaster, Dr. Grimstone himself!
The suddenness of the shock threw him completely off his balance. In anordinary way the encounter would not of course have discomposed him, butnow he would have given worlds for presence of mind enough either torush past to the cab and secure his only chance of freedom before theDoctor had fully realised his intention, or else greet him affably andcalmly, and, taking him quietly aside, explain his awkward position withan easy man-of-the-world air, which would ensure instant conviction.
But both courses were equally impossible. He stood there, right in Dr.Grimstone's path, with terrified starting eyes and quivering limbs, morelike an unhappy guinea-pig expecting the advances of a boa, than aBritish merchant in the presence of his son's schoolmaster! He was sickand faint with alarm, and the consciousness that appearances were allagainst him.
There was nothing in the least extraordinary in the fact of the Doctor'spresence at the station. Mr. Bultitude might easily have taken thisinto account as a very likely contingency and have provided accordingly,had he troubled to think, for it was Dr. Grimstone's custom, upon thefirst day of the term, to come up to town and meet as many of his pupilsupon the platform as intended to return by a train previously specifiedat the foot of the school-bills; and Paul had even expressly insistedupon Dick's travelling under surveillance in this manner, thinking itnecessary to keep him out of premature mischief.
It makes a calamity doubly hard to bear when one looks back and sees bywhat a trivial chance it has come upon us, and how slight an effortwould have averted it altogether; and Mr. Bultitude cursed his ownstupidity as he stood there, rooted to the ground, and saw the hansom (a"patent safety" to him in sober earnest) drive off and abandon him tohis fate.
Dr. Grimstone bore down heavily upon him and Jolland, who had by thistime come up. He was a tall and imposing personage, with a strong blackbeard and small angry grey eyes, slightly blood-tinged; he wore garmentsof a semi-clerical cut and colour, though he was not in orders. He heldout a hand to each with elaborate geniality.
"Ha, Bultitude, my boy, how are you? How are you, Jolland? Come backbraced in body and mind by your vacation, eh? That's as it should be.Have you tickets? No? follow me then. You're both over age, I believe.There you are; take care of them."
And before Paul could protest, he had purchased tickets for all three,after which he laid an authoritative hand upon Mr. Bultitude's shoulderand walked him out through the booking hall upon the platform.
"This is awful," thought Paul, shrinking involuntarily; "simply awful.He evidently has no idea who I really am. Unless I'm very careful Ishall be dragged off to Crichton House before I can put him right. If Icould only get him away alone somewhere."
As if in answer to the wish, the Doctor guided him by a slight pressurestraight along by the end of the station, saying to Jolland as he didso, "I wish to have a little serious conversation with Richard inprivate. Suppose you go to the bookstall and see if you can find out anyof our young friends. Tell them to wait for me there."
When they were alone the Doctor paced solemnly along in silence for somemoments, while Paul, who had always been used to consider himself afairly prominent object, whatever might be his surroundings, began tofeel an altogether novel sensation of utter insignificance upon thatimmense brown plain of platform and under the huge span of the archeswhose girders were lost in wreaths of mingled fog and smoke.
Still he had some hope. Was it not possible, after all, that the Doctorhad divined his secret and was searching for words delicate enough toconvey his condolences?
"I wished to tell you, Bultitude," said the Doctor presently, and hisfirst words dashed all Paul's rising hopes, "that I hope you arereturning this term with the resolve to do better things. You havecaused your excellent father much pain in the past. You little know thegrief a wilful boy can inflict on his parent."
"I think I have a very fair idea of it," thought Paul, but he saidnothing.
"I hope you left him in good health? Such a devoted parent,Richard--such a noble heart!"
At any other time Mr. Bultitude might have felt gratified by theseeulogies, but just then he was conscious that he could lay no claim tothem. It was Dick who had the noble heart now, and he himself felt evenless of a devoted parent than he looked.
"I had a letter from him during the vacation," continued Dr. Grimstone,"a sweet letter, Richard, breathing in every line a father's anxiety andconcern for your welfare."
Paul was a little staggered. He remembered having written, but he wouldscarcely perhaps have described his letter as "sweet," as he had notdone much more than enclose a cheque for his son's account and object tothe items for pew-rent and scientific lectures with the diorama asexcessive.
"But--and this is what I wanted to say to you, Bultitude--his is noblind doting affection. He has implored me, for your own sake, if I seeyou diverging ever so slightly from the path of duty, not to stay myhand. And I shall not forget his injunctions."
A few minutes ago, and it would have seemed to Paul so simple and easy amatter to point out to the Doctor the very excusable error into which hehad f
allen. It was no more than he would have to do repeatedly upon hisreturn, and here was an excellent opportunity for an explanation.
But, somehow the words would not come. The schoolmaster's form seemed sotremendous and towering, and he so feeble and powerless before him, thathe soon persuaded himself that a public place, like a station platform,was no scene for domestic revelations of so painful a character.
He gave up all idea of resistance at present. "Perhaps I had betterleave him in his error till we get into the train," he thought; "then wewill get rid of that other boy, and I can break it to him gradually inthe railway carriage as I get more accustomed to him."
But in spite of his determination to unbosom himself without furtherdelay, he knew that a kind of fascinated resignation was growing uponhim and gaining firmer hold each minute.
Something must be done to break the spell and burst the toils which werebeing woven round him before all effort became impossible.
"And now," said the Doctor, glancing up at the great clock-face on whicha reflector cast a patch of dim yellow light, "we must be thinking ofstarting. But don't forget what I have said."
And they walked back towards the book-stalls with their cheery warmthof colour, past the glittering buffet, and on up the platform, to a partwhere six boys of various sizes were standing huddled forlornly togetherunder a gaslight.
"Aha!" said Dr. Grimstone, with a slight touch of the ogre in his tone,"more of my fellows, eh? We shall be quite a party. How do you do, boys?Welcome back to your studies."
And the six boys came forward, all evidently in the lowest spirits, andraised their tall hats with a studied politeness.
"Some old friends here, Bultitude," said the Doctor, impelling theunwilling Paul towards the group. "You know Tipping, of course; Coker,too, you've met before--and Coggs. How are you, Siggers? You're lookingwell. Ah, by the way, I see a new face--Kiffin, I think? Kiffin, this isBultitude, who will make himself your mentor, I hope, and initiate youinto our various manners and customs."
And, with a horrible dream-like sense of unreality, Mr. Bultitude foundhimself being greeted by several entire strangers with a degree ofwarmth embarrassing in the extreme.
He would have liked to protest and declare himself there and then in histrue colours, but if this had been difficult alone with the Doctor underthe clock, it was impossible now, and he submitted ruefully enough totheir unwelcome advances.
Tipping, a tall, red-haired, raw-boned boy, with sleeves and trousers hehad outgrown, and immense boots, wrung Paul's hand with misdirectedenergy, saying "how-de-do?" with a gruff superiority, mercifullytempered by a touch of sheepishness.
Coggs and Coker welcomed him with open arms as an equal, while Siggers,a short, slight, sharp-featured boy, with a very fashionable hat andshirt-collars, and a horse-shoe pin, drawled, "How are you, old boy?"with the languor of a confirmed man about town.
The other two were Biddlecomb, a boy with a blooming complexion and asingularly sweet voice, and the new-comer, Kiffin, who did not seem muchmore at home in the society of other boys than Mr. Bultitude himself,for he kept nervously away from them, shivering with the piteousself-abandonment of an Italian greyhound.
Paul was now convinced that unless he exerted himself considerably, hisidentity with his son would never even be questioned, and the dangerroused him to a sudden determination.
However his face and figure might belie him, nothing in his speech orconduct should encourage the mistake. Whatever it might cost him toovercome his fear of the Doctor, he would force himself to act and talkostentatiously, as much like his own ordinary self as possible, duringthe journey down to Market Rodwell, so as to prepare the Doctor's mindfor the disclosures he meant to make at the earliest opportunity. He wasbeginning to see that the railway carriage, with all those boys sittingby and staring, would be an inconvenient place for so delicate anddifficult a confession.
The guard having warned intending passengers to take their seats, andJolland, who had been unaccountably missing all this time, havingappeared from the direction of the refreshment buffet, furtivelybrushing away some suspicious-looking flakes and crumbs from his coat,and contrived to join the party unperceived, they all got into afirst-class compartment--Paul with the rest.
He longed for moral courage to stand out boldly and refuse to leavetown, but, as we have seen, it was beyond his powers, and he temporised.Very soon the whistle had sounded and the train had begun to glideslowly out beyond the platform and arch, past the signal boxes and longlow sheds and offices which are the suburbs of a large terminus--andthen it was too late.