But Labar thrust him aside and took the shortcut over the rails without troubling the bridge. Another porter roused by the shout of his colleague rushed to stop him. Labar gave him a push in the chest which sent him headlong.

“I’m a police officer,” he cried. “Let me alone.”

Normally he would have cried to the officials to stop the train, but his mind was obsessed with the one idea, and for the moment incapable of coherent reasoning. As he swept by the line of carriages he caught a second’s view of the guard with his flag raised and his whistle at his lips.

The train began to move very slowly, but he was for the moment gaining upon it, his eyes fixed upon the panorama of the carriage windows. One glimpse he caught of a face that he knew, and jumped for the door of a first-class carriage. In the corner of the compartment farthest from him Larry Hughes was holding back Penelope with one hand while he faced about with a snarl of rage at the intruder. The door stuck and Labar wrestled fiercely to pull it open.