But misfortune met him at the very outset. The stage was
heavily loaded, and on the way, one of the wheels broke down; this
caused such a delay that Mr. Randal missed the morning train, and the
next did not come for several hours.
It was afternoon when he finally started. He became anxious and weary
from long waiting, and after three stations were passed, he became
nervous, and worried.
"How long before we reach Harrowtown?" he inquired, stopping the busy
conductor.
"At half past eight."
[Illustration: "_How long before we reach Harrowtown?_"]
Another question was upon Mr. Randal's lips, but the conductor was gone.
"Not reach there until evening!" he exclaimed to himself in dismay, "and
pitch dark, for there's no moon now; I shall not know where to go!"
Presently the conductor passed again. "Mr. Conductor, will you kindly
tell me when to get out? I've never been to Harrowtown, and I don't want
to stop at the wrong place."
"Give yourself no uneasiness," was the polite reply, "I'll let you know;
I will not forget you."
Soothed by this assurance, the old man settled back in his seat and
finally went to sleep.
In the seat behind him sat a tall, handsome boy. His name was Albert
Gregory. He was bright and intelligent, but there was an expression of
cruelty about his mouth, and a look about his eyes that was cold and
unfeeling.
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