"Yes. It's the boy. Quickly!"
The passengers saw a look of understanding flash between the two men as they hurried away.
"Mystery! Crime! Adventure!" the man in flannels sneered. "Victim guaranteed every two hours."
"You rather underestimate the time." The stout man was putting away his patience cards. "However, optimism is a privilege of youth."
"Oh, go to hell!" said the flanneled one. But he said it under his breath, and only the trembling flame of the lighted match in his unsteady fingers made response. He walked toward a doorway.
"Er— look out for fog."
The quiet man stowed away his pocket-pack. His tone was perfectly casual.
"Fog! What d'you mean— fog?"
"Ran into some just before tea, I heard. Perhaps I should say— it ran into us."
"I know there was a hullabaloo. The mate go
