`Guard!' said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence.
The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised blunderbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye On the horseman, answered curtly, `Sir.'
`There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. You must know Tellson's Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A crown to drink. I may read this?'
`If so be as you're quick, sir.'
He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and read--first to himself and then aloud: `"Wait at Door for Mam'selle." It's not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, RECALLED TO LIFE.'
Jerry started in his saddle. `That`s a Blazing strange answer, too,' said he, at his hoarsest.
`Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. Good night.'
With those words the passenger opened tile coach-door and got in; not at all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape the hazard of originating any other kind of action.
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