That'll do his ticket in." The outside door was suddenly opened and closed.

The sound of footsteps approaching the ticket window was heard.

A long, white hand was thrust through the aperture, a voice was heard from the invisible outside.
"Third to Detton Junction, please." The station-master took the ticket from a little rack, received the exact sum he demanded, swept it into the till, and resumed his place before the fire.

The porter, with the lamp in his hand, lounged out into the booking-hall.

The prospective passenger, however, was nowhere in sight.
He looked back into the office.
"Was that Jim Spender going up to see his barmaid again ?" he asked his superior.
The station master yawned drowsily.
"Didn't notice," he answered.