A quarter of an hour later my hansom dashed into the yard at Euston just as the warning bell for the 1:30 train was sounding.
"Where for, sir ?" asked a porter.

"Any luggage ?" I did not know where I was for, and I had no luggage.
I rushed on to the platform and looked anxiously up and down.

It was a scene of confusion.

Groups of non-travellers round the carriage doors were beginning to say a last good-bye to their friends inside.

Porters were hurling their last truck-loads of luggage into the vans; the guard was a quarter of the way down the train looking at the tickets; the newspaper boys were flitting about shouting noisily and inarticulately; and the usual crowd of "just-in-times" were rushing headlong out of the booking-office and hurling themselves at the crowded train.
I was at a loss what to do.