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After a little further conversation on the subject Mr Sharp dismissed the pretended porter to his station, and called upon the superintendent of the police force of Clatterby, from whom he received an addition to his force of men.
This was the beginning of a conversation which terminated eventually in the transference of the nut-brown hair and lustrous eyes to the artist's villa in Clatterby. As there was a good garden round the villa, and the wife with nut-brown hair was uncommonly fond of flowers, Edwin looked out for a gardener.
Meanwhile a telegram had been sent to Clatterby, and, in a short time, a special train arrived with several of the chief men of the line, and a gang of a hundred surface-men to clear away the wreck and remove the dead and injured. Many of those unhurt had made singularly narrow escapes. One man was seated in a third-class carriage when the concussion took place.
I bring you a letter from Clatterby station. Another messenger should have brought it, but I undertook the duty partly for the purpose of introducing myself as your son's friend. I my name is Gurwood." "What! Edwin Gurwood, about whom Joseph speaks so frequently, and for whom he has been trying to obtain a situation on the railway through our friend Captain Lee?" exclaimed Mrs Tipps.
It contained an inquiry after a diamond ring which had been wrapped up in a large brown paper parcel, with the name Durby written on it in pencil, and was lost many months before between Clatterby and London. The note further set forth, that the ring was the property of Mrs Tipps of Eden Villa, and enclosed from that lady a minute description of the ring. It was signed James Noble, M.D.
Not long afterwards, Mr Sharp knocked at the door of a small house in one of the suburbs of Clatterby, and was ushered into the presence of Mrs Podge. That amiable lady was seated by the fire knitting a stocking. "Good afternoon, Mrs Podge," said Mr Sharp, bowing and speaking in his blandest tones. "I hope I see you quite well?"
Meanwhile Clatterby station became alive with travellers. The train drew up to the platform. Some passengers got out; others got in. The engine which brought it there, being in need of rest, coal, and water, moved off to the shed.
On a particular holiday, it was advertised that a great excursion train would start from the Clatterby station at a certain hour. At the appointed time the long line of carriages was pushed up to the platform by our friend John Marrot, who was appointed that day to drive the train. "Bill," remarked John to his mate, "it'll be a biggish train. There's an uncommon lot o' people on the platform."
We cannot indeed, introduce you to the particular "works" we have described; but if you would see something similar, hie thee to the works of our great arterial railways, to those of the London and North-Western, at Crewe; the Great Western, at Swindon; the South-eastern, at Ashford; the Great Northern, at Doncaster; the North British, at Cowlairs; the Caledonian, at Glasgow, or any of the many others that exist throughout the kingdom, for in each and all you will see, with more or less modification, exactly the same amazing sights that were witnessed by worthy Mrs Marrot and her hopeful son Bob, on that never-to-be-forgotten day, when they visited the pre-eminently great Clatterby "works" of the Grand National Trunk Railway.
He therefore made inquiry about him of the station-master at Clatterby.
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