The Argosy — page 332: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

318 Parkwater. to that serpent-crocodile. Take a special engine and come and stop it. The old affair revived. May, the porter. ‘“* HENRY CASTLEROSSE.” Mr. Lyvett was in a cab the next morning betimes, and had nearly. reached the railway station, prepared to demand a special train, whén in putting his hand in his pocket to get the fare ready for the cabman, he discovered, to his consternation, that he had left his money-case at home. This was through being over-cautious. He had put the case out on the drawers the previous night, lest he might forget to change it from one suit of clothes to the other in the hurry of dressing ; and on the drawers it was still He had to dnve back; and this delayed him considerably above an hour. The clock was striking eight as he finally drove up to the station. He knew that the train must be then about going out. ‘A first-class ticket for Eaton,” he breathlessly exclaimed, throwing down a sovereign. ‘ How much time have I?” he added, as he took up the change. ‘None. It is starting now. You can’t go by it. The express leaves at ten.” ‘‘T must go by it,” he said, rushing up to the line of carriages. ‘‘ Hi! stop! stop! Porter! stop!” ‘‘ Too late, sir,” said the porter. ‘‘ Train’s on the move.” ‘‘Qpen a door, man! It’s a business of life or death. Open a door, I say. Here! all right; never be known.” ' Something of a golden colour mysteriously found its way into the porter’s hand, and a door, quite as mysteriously, flew open. It belonged to a third-class carriage, the last of the train. Mr. Lyvett scrambled into it. The train steamed tp to its destination ; that is, Mr. Lyvett’s destina- tion; steamed well. It was only forty-one minutes past eight when it reached Eaton. He sprang from the carriage. “ This is a first-class ticket,” cried the porter, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘¢ And if I choose to pay for a first-class carriage and sit in a third, what’s that to you? How far is the church off?” ‘ Half a mile.” ““ Whiclt is the way to it P” ‘Out at the back, down the steps, and straight along up the road.” ‘‘ Any carriage to be hadp” ‘‘No. Payne’s fly was here, bringing folks to the train, but it’s gone again.” Mr. Lyvett rushed madly down the steps. The road was before him, and he could see the church spire rising at a distance; but it looked more like a mile away than half a mile. What could he do to get there? What a shame that no conveyance was in waiting! The knot might COLMA a) NOOKS (CO)