He dared not abjure the postman to hurry, lest Dobson should turn his head and descry his colleague.

But that ancient man had begun to realize the shortness of time and was urging the cart along at a fair pace, since they were now on the flatter shelf of land which carried the railway.
Dickson kept his eyes fixed on the bicycle and his teeth shut tight on his lower lip.

Now it was hidden by the last dip of hill; now it emerged into view not a quarter of a mile behind, and its rider gave vent to a shrill call.

Luckily the innkeeper did not hear, for at that moment with a jolt the cart pulled up at the station door, accompanied by the roar of the incoming train.
Dickson whipped down from the back seat and seized the solitary porter.
"Label the box for Glasgow and into the van with it, Quick, man, and there'll be a shilling for you." He had been doing some rapid thinking these last minutes and had made up his mind.

If Dobson and he were alone in a carriage he could not have the box there; that must be elsewhere, so that Dobson could not examine it if he were set on violence, somewhere in which it could still be a focus of suspicion and attract attention from his person, He took his ticket, and rushed on to the platform, to find the porter and the box at the door of the guard's van.