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 when he awoke with a start the train was still and his watch told him it was about  six o'clock. There was no sight of a station and presently he grew curious. As there was no one in the smoking room to make inquiries of, he punched the button. In his own good time the porter appeared at the door.

"Where are we, porter?" Wade asked.

"’Bout eight miles west of New London, sir."

"This isn't a station, is it? What's the trouble?"

"There's a freight wreck ahead of us, sir."

"Good Lord!" groaned Wade. The porter grinned sympathetically.

"Yes, sir, we done tied up here for awhile, I reckon. Other train ain't no better off, though."

"What other train?"

"Number 18; she's held up too, sir."

Wade stared.

"You mean the train that left New York at one-two?"