Edward Phillips Oppenheim

The Vanished Messenger Edward Phillips Oppenheim

There were very few people upon Platform Number Twenty-one of Liverpool StreetStation at a quarter to nine on the evening of April 2-possibly because the platform inquestion is one of the most remote and least used in the great terminus. The stationmaster, however, was there himself, with an inspector in attendance. A dark, thick-set man, wearing a long travelling ulster and a Homburg hat, and carrying in his hand a brownleather dressing-case, across which was painted in black letters the name MR. JOHN P. DUNSTER, was standing a few yards away, smoking a long cigar, and, to all appearanceabsorbed in studying the advertisements which decorated the grimy wall on the other sideof the single track. A couple of porters were seated upon a barrow which contained onesolitary portmanteau. There were no signs of other passengers, no other luggage. As amatter of fact, according to the time-table, no train was due to leave the station or to arriveat it, on this particular platform, for several hours. Down at the other end of the platform the wooden barrier was thrust back, and a porterwith some luggage upon a barrow made his noisy approach. He was followed by a tallyoung man in a grey tweed suit and a straw hat on which were the colours of a famouscricket club