Three weeks later there were two important happenings. The Prime

Minister of England, within an hour of leaving for the West of England

to take a well-earned rest, summoned to him his right-hand man.

"Chenney," he said, "I really must go away for this rest, and I'm

awfully sorry I cannot be on hand to meet the Chinese Commission. Now,

whatever you do, you will not fail to meet them at Charing Cross on

their arrival from the Continent. I believe they are leaving Paris

to-morrow."

"I shall be there," said Parkinson Chenney, with a little smile. "I

rather fancy I have managed their coal concession well, Prime Minister."

"Yes, yes," said the Prime Minister, who was not in the mood for

handing out bouquets. "And would you run down to Tolness and settle up

that infernal commission of inquiry? They've been asking questions in

the House, and I can give no very definite reply. Solebury threatened

to force a division when the vote came up. Undoubtedly there's been a

great deal of extravagance, but you may be able to wangle a reasonable

explanation."

"Trust me, Prime Minister," said Mr. Parkinson Chenney, and left that

afternoon by special train for Tolness.

On that very morning Bones, in a pair of overalls and with a rapt

expression, stood with his hand on the starting lever of "Mary Louisa,"

and explained to the secretary of the company--she also wore white

overalls and sat in the cab of the engine--just how simple a matter it

was to drive a locomotive.

For two glorious days Bones had driven the regular service between

Lynhaven and Bayham Junction, where the lines met. He had come to know

every twist and turn of the road, every feature of the somewhat

featureless landscape, and the four passengers who travelled regularly

every day except Sundays--there was no Sunday service--were now so

familiar to him that he did not trouble to take their tickets.

The Lynhaven Railway system was not as elaborate as he had thought. He

had been impressed by the number of railway trucks which stood in the

siding at the terminus, but was to discover that they did not belong to

the railway, the rolling stock of which consisted of "Mary Louisa," an

asthmatic but once famous locomotive, and four weather-beaten coaches.

The remainder of the property consisted of a half right in a bay

platform at Bayham Junction and the dilapidated station building at

Lynhaven, which was thoughtfully situated about two miles from the town.

Nobody used the railway; that was the stark truth borne in upon

Marguerite Whitland. She recognised, with a sense of dismay, the

extraordinary badness of the bargain which Bones had made. Bones, with

a real locomotive to play with--he had given the aged engine-driver a

week's holiday--saw nothing but the wonderful possibilities of pulling

levers and making a mass of rusting machinery jerk asthmatically

forward at the touch of his hand.




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