where the descent of a flight of steps brought him to the main entrance of the mansion. Stationing himself under the portico, he waited the arrival of the brougham, which presently swung to a standstill, while the big hall door was opened wide by ready hands, and shed a blaze of light on—an empty carriage.
“What’s this mean, Perrett?” asked the General, outwardly calm for all the big lump in his throat, and cool enough to remember the name of the gray-haired coachman, learned on his own drive from the station. “Has not his Grace arrived?”
“No, sir,” replied the old servant, leaning from the box. “There has been an accident to the 8.45. No one hurt, sir. No need for alarm, for his Grace can’t have been in the train.”
“How do you get at that?” the General asked, doubtfully.
“The train was derailed between St. Albans and Harpenden, sir. Some of the passengers were shaken, but none badly injured; so the fast train that followed was run on to the up metals and brought them on, stopping at every station. But none got out at Tarrant Road. James here,” indicating the footman, “ran
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