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ELEVEN o’clock in the morning. The Golden Arrow was ready for departure. Standing at the eastern side of Victoria Station, the famous train was waiting for the final moment to begin its swift run from London to the Channel port of Dover.

The main departure platform had cleared. Passengers had gone aboard, a cosmopolitan throng, all bound for destinations on the European continent. From its brilliantly painted locomotive, “Howard of Effingham,” back along the line of cars, the Golden Arrow seemed straining for the word to go.

Two men came dashing through a gateway. They hurried past the rear car, a baggage wagon loaded with large boxes, held in place by chains. They passed two other vans, hastened beyond the first-class coaches and scrambled aboard a Pullman car in the exact center of the train. A uniformed guard stepped on behind them.

Up ahead, the engine driver opened the regulator. With fierce, rapid chugs, the locomotive started its pull from Victoria. These last-moment passengers had held the Golden Arrow for a period of some thirty seconds.

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