The Midnight Mystery

In the month of May, a young man was walking slowly up and down the London, Chatham and Dover platform of the Victoria station. It was close on twelve and he glanced from the clock to the train, which was timed to leave for Margate at noon. This intended passenger was dressed in deep mourning and there was a haggard expression on his face which betrayed anxiety. Judging from his garb and ill-suppressed grief, he had but lately lost a near relative. “Nearly twelve o’clock,” he uttered, looking at his watch to verify the station time, “and the train starts at five past. I am afraid Dillock will be late.” Even as he spoke the man whom he expected emerged from the ticket office, and walked straight towards him. A tall, sober-looking individual was the newcomer, with a keen inquisitive look on his clean-shaven face. His appearance, smart and alert, was that of a barrister, and he was frequently mistaken for a member of the legal profession. As a matter of fact, if not a lawyer, he was closely connected with the law, for he was well known as Dillock, one of the cleverest of London detectives. Taken in conjunction with the mourning garb of the young man, his appearance on the spot was ominous of evil. It looked as though Dillock were engaged in the investigation of a possible crime. “Just in time, Mr. Dillock.” “Very sorry, Mr. Halston, couldn’t get here any sooner,” the detective replied smartly. “I came as quick as a hansom could bring me. After all I am in time, with five minutes to spare.”