The man followed him with his eyes.
"Anxious about friends, sir ?" he asked Charles.
"Yes," I heard Charles say, as I went off to warm myself by the waiting-room fire, keeping a sharp lookout for the arrival of the train.
When I came out some time later, wondering if it were ever going to arrive at all, I found Charles and the man in black walking up and down together, evidently in earnest conversation.

When I joined them they ceased talking (I never can imagine why people generally do when I come up), and the latter said that he would make inquiry at the booking-office, and left us.
"Who is that man ?" I asked.
"How should I know ?" said Charles, absently.

"He says he has been a London detective till just lately, but he is an inspector of police now.
Well ?" as the man returned.
"Booking-clerk can't remember, sir; but the clerk at the telegraph office remembers a young lady leaving a telegram last night, to be sent on first thing this morning." "Has it been sent yet ?" "Yes, sir; some time." "Where was it sent to ?" "That is against rules, sir.

The clerk has no right to give information.
Anyhow, it is as good as certain, from what you say, that the party was in the train, and at all events you will not be kept in doubt much longer;" and he pointed to the long-expected puff of white smoke in the direction in which all eyes had been so anxiously turned.

The train came slowly round a broad curve and crawled into the station.