CHAPTER XII.
THE MARATHON As if two gods should play some heavenly match, and on this wager lay two earthly women .-- _Shakespeare_.
An automaton, scarcely thinking, I gained the platform of the station.
There was a sound of hissing steam, a rolling cloud of sulphurous smoke, a shouting of railway captains, a creaking of the wheels.

Without volition of my own, I was on my northward journey.

Presently I looked around and found seated at my side the man whom I then recollected I was to meet--Doctor Samuel Ward.

I presume he took the train after I did.
"What's wrong, Nicholas ?" he asked.

"Trouble of any kind ?" I presume that the harsh quality of my answer surprised him.