" replied the man.
The whistle shrilled out again. The guard, far up the platform, held
up his arm, and shouted to me to "Come on!"
"If you're going on by this train, sir," said the porter, "you must
run for it."
I did run for it, just gained the carriage as the train began to move,
was shoved in by the guard, and left breathless and bewildered, with
Mr. Dwerrihouse's cigar-case still in my hand.
It was the strangest disappearance in the world. It was like a
transformation trick in a pantomime. They were there one
moment,--palpably there, talking, with the gaslight full upon their
faces; and the next moment they were gone. There was no door near,--no
window,--no staircase. It was a mere slip of barren platform,
tapestried with big advertisements. Could anything be more mysterious?
It was not worth thinking about; and yet, for my life, I could not help
pondering upon it,--pondering, wondering, conjecturing, turning it
over and over in my mind, and beating my brains for a solution of the
enigma.
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