The Argosy — page 208: what you’re looking at

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

A Mystery. IQI ‘¢T am not sure that Iam correct ”—and he drew from his pocket a _ ,time-table and consulted it. ‘There would not be a train for Evesham . for more than two hours, he found, one having just gone. The stranger remarked that it was very unfortunate; he had not wanted to wait all that time at Worcester, but to get on atonce. ‘The stranger then detained him to ask, apologising for the trouble, and adding that it was the first time he had been in the locality, whether he could get on from Evesham to Cheltenham. St. George told him that he could, but that he could also get on to Cheltenham from- Worcester direct. “‘ Ah,” remarked the stranger, ‘‘but 1 have to take Evesham on my way.” No more passed, and St. George left him on the platform. He appeared to be a gentleman, spoke as a cultured man speaks, St. George added when questioned on these points : and his appearanceand attire tallied with that given by Mrs. Ashton. St. George had not observed Mrs. James Ashton on the opposite platform ; did not know she was there. Perceiving, as he left the station, how bad the weather was getting, and what a wild night might be expected, St. George rapidly made up his mind to start for home at once, without waiting for tea at Philip West’s or going back at all to the house. He made his way to the Hare-and-Hounds through the back streets, as being the nearest, ordered his gig, and set off—alone—as soon as it was ready. It was then getting dusk ; snow was falling in scanty flakes mixed with sleet, and the wind was roaring and rushing like mad. Gaining the top of Red Hill, St. George was bowling along the level road beyond it, when some wayfarer turned round just before him, put up his hand, and spoke. By the peculiar-coloured coat—a sort of slate—and white comforter, he recognised the stranger of the rail- way station; he also remembered the voice. ‘I beg your pardon a thousand times for stopping you,” he said, “but I think I perceive that the road branches off two ways yonder: will you kindly tell me which of them will take me to Evesham: there seems to be nobody about on foot that I can inquire of.” ‘That will be your way,” St. George answered, pointing with his whip. “But you are not thinking of walking to Evesham to-night, are you!” he added. “It is fifteen miles off.” The stranger replied that he had made up his mind to walk, rather than wait two hours at Worcester station: and St. George was touch- ing his horse to move on, when a thought struck him. ‘““T am not going the direct Evesham road, but I can give you a lift part of the way,” he said. ‘It will not cut off any of the distance for you, but it will save your legs three or four miles.” The stranger thanked him and got up at once, St. George undoing the apron to admit him. He had the same black bag with him that St. George had noticed at the station. St. George had thus to make a detour to accommodate the stranger. He was by no means unwilling to do it; for, apart from the wish to CoOnniclooolks (S(O)