Then a totally unexpected, almost an unprecedented, thing occurred.

A passenger walked into the station and approached the train with the evident intention of getting into it.

He was a clergyman, shabbily dressed, imperfectly shaved, red-haired, and wearing a red moustache.

He carried a battered Gladstone bag in one hand.

The guard glanced at him and then distended his cheeks with air, meaning to blow his whistle.
"Hold on a minute," said the clergyman.