A
porter pushed his barrow, heavy with trunks and crowned with gun-cases,
against the legs of an earl, who swore. A burly man, red faced and
broad shouldered, elbowed a marchioness who, not knowing how to swear
effectively, tried to wither him with a glance. She failed. The man
who had jostled her had small reverence for rank or title. He was,
besides, in a hurry, and had no time to spend in apologising to great
ladies.
Sir Gilbert Hawkesby was one of his Majesty's judges. He had won his
position by sheer hard work and commanding ability. He had not stopped
in his career to soothe the outraged dignity of those whom he pushed
aside; and he had no intention now of delaying his progress along the
railway platform to explain to a marchioness why he had jostled her.
It was only by a vigorous use of his elbows that he could make his way;
and it ought to have been evident, even to a peeress, that he meant to
go from one end of the train to the other. His eyes glanced sharply
right and left as he pushed on. He peered through the windows of the
carriages. He scanned each figure in the crowd. At last he caught
sight of a lady standing beside the bookstall.
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