"
"Gone on!" Hugh Gifford exclaimed angrily. "But you had no business to
send the train on till all the luggage was put out."
"The guard told me that all the luggage for Branchester was out," the
porter protested deprecatingly. "You see, sir, the train was nearly
twenty minutes late, and in his hurry to get off he must have overlooked
your suit-case."
"The very thing I wanted most," the owner returned. "I say, Kelson," he
went on, addressing a tall, soldierly man who strolled up, "a nice thing
has happened; the train has gone off with my evening clothes."
Kelson whistled. "Are you sure?"
"Quite." Gifford appealed to the porter, who regretfully confirmed the
statement.
"That's awkward to-night," Kelson commented with a short laugh of
annoyance. "Look here, we'd better interview the station-master, and have
your case wired for to the next stop. I am sorry, old fellow, I kept you
talking instead of letting you look after your rattle-traps, but I was so
glad to see you again after all this long time."
"Thanks, my dear Harry, you've nothing to blame yourself about. It was my
own fault being so casual.
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