In another words, he came at the wrong time.

And the wrong time is as bad as the wrong thing, or worse.
Take a note of that, please: and then forget it.
At last he gave up London in despair, and started for Birmingham.
The train stepped at Tring, and, as it was going on again, a man ran toward the third-class carriage Little was seated in.

One of the servants of the company tried to stop him, very properly.

He struggled with that official, and eventually shook him off.

Meantime the train was accelerating its pace.