So, too, were Hendon and Mill Hill safely negotiated, and Beaumanoir was able to contemplate the slackened speed for Elstree with greater equanimity. As before, the guard’s portly form loomed large outside the compartment the moment the train stopped, and so doubtless would have remained had not a loud, imperious voice on the platform summoned him to a divided duty.
“Here, guard! What are you about there? Hurry up now, and open this door!” came the choleric command.
With a deprecatory glance at the Duke’s carriage the guard perforce hurried off, and Beaumanoir peered out of the window after him. The official had gone to the assistance of a tall, well-groomed gentleman, who, with an air of irritable importance, was fumbling with the door-handle of a first-class compartment—some way along the train. The traveler was of the type that secures the immediate respect of railway servants—dressed in brand new creaseless clothes, every immaculate pocket of which suggested the jingle of half-sovereigns. A man carrying a yellow hatbox and a rug lurked deferentially behind the magnate and cast reproachful glances at the guard, who was
[164]
