At the station of Bingham Cross Roads four passengers got off the train. One, a woman with bundles, who was evidently familiar with her surroundings, walked rapidly away through the hot September sunshine toward the little village in the distance. The other three stood on the platform and looked about, as if taking their bearings. They were foreigners of an unfamiliar species. Their fellow-passengers in the car had discussed them with an interest not entirely free from suspicion, and their finally getting out at such an unimportant station as Bingham Cross Roads caused a surprise which, although reasonably under control, was still too strong for concealment. From the windows of the car at l…
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