The Trumpeter Swan

It had rained all night one of the summer rains that beginning in a thunder-storm in Washington had continued in a steaming drizzle until morning. There were only four passengers in the sleeper men all of them-two in adjoining sections in the middle of the car a third in the drawing-room a fourth an intermittent occupant of a berth at the end. They had gone to bed unaware of the estate or circumstance of their fellow-travellers and had waked to find the train delayed by washouts and side-tracked until more could be learned of the condition of the road. The man in the drawing-room shone in the few glimpses that the others had of him with an effulgence which was dazzling. His valet the intermittent sleeper in the end berth was a smug little soul with a small nose which pointed to the stars. When the door of the compartment opened to admit breakfast there was the radiance of a brocade dressing-gown the shine of a sleek head the staccato of an imperious voice.