Detain Michael McCrane--bank robbery--tall, dark--third-class--left Euston 1:30--I follow--Samuels." How would that do?
I was pleased with the look of it; and, in the fullness of my heart, consulted the station-master.
He eyed me unfavourably.
"Who are you ?" he had the boldness to inquire.
"I'm from the bank." "Oh!" he said; and added, "your best plan is to follow him in the supplemental.

It will be up in five minutes.

He's sure to be bound for Fleetwood, and you'll catch him on the steamer.

They won't stop him on the road without a warrant.

They don't know you." I admitted the truth of this, and, after some inward debate-- particularly as I had a ticket through--I decided to take advice, and avail myself of the "Supplemental." It was painfully supplemental, that train--a string of the most ramshackle carriages the line could muster, and the carriage in which I found myself smelt as if it had been in Billingsgate for a month.
However, I could sit down this time.