Golden Stories. Various

By FRED M. WHITE

       III

       THE DITTY-BOX

       A Pawnbroker's Story

       By OWEN OLIVER

       IV

       THE YELLOW CAT

       An Idyll of the Summer

       By ANNIE E.P. SEARING

       V

       A COCK AND POLICEMAN

       A Tale of Rural England

       By RALPH KAYE ASSHETON

       VI

       PRISONERS IN THE TOWER

       An Episode of Travel

       By LUCY COPINGER

       VII

       SANKEY'S DOUBLE-HEADER

       A Winter's Tale

       By FRANK H. SPEARMAN

       VIII

       AUNT MARY TELEGRAPHS

       A Comedy of Everyday Life

       By LLOYD E. LONERGAN

       IX

       THE VENGEANCE OF THE WOLF

       A Drama in Wales

       By J. AQUILA KEMPSTER

       X

       THE WOOING OF BETTINA

       A Story of Finance

       By W.Y. SHEPPARD

       XI

       THE JAM GOD

       A Tale of Nigeria

       By H.M. EGBERT

       XII

       WHEN FATHER WORKED

       A Suburban Story

       By CHARLTON LAWRENCE EDHOLM

I

       Table of Contents

THE NIGHT EXPRESS

       Table of Contents

The Story of a Bank Robbery

       Table of Contents

      By FRED M. WHITE

       Table of Contents

      A pelting rain volleyed against the great glass dome of the terminus, a roaring wind boomed in the roof. Passengers, hurrying along the platform, glistened in big coats and tweed caps pulled close over their ears. By the platform the night express was drawn up—a glittering mass of green and gold, shimmering with electric lights, warm, inviting, and cozy.

      Most of the corridor carriages and sleeping berths were full, for it was early in October still, and the Scotch exodus was not just yet. A few late comers were looking anxiously out for the guard. He came presently, an alert figure in blue and silver. Really, he was very sorry. But the train was unusually crowded, and he was doing the best he could. He was perfectly aware of the fact that his questioners represented a Cabinet Minister on his way to Balmoral and a prominent Lothian baronet, but there are limits even to the power of an express guard, on the Grand Coast Railway.

      "Well, what's the matter with this?" the Minister demanded. "Here is an ordinary first-class coach that will do very well for us. Now, Catesby, unlock one of these doors and turn the lights on."

      "Very sorry, my lord," the guard explained, "but it can't be done. Two of the carriages in the coach are quite full, as you see, and the other two are reserved. As a matter of fact, my lord, we are taking a body down to Lydmouth. Gentleman who is going to be buried there. And the other carriage is for the Imperial Bank of Scotland. Cashier going up north with specie, you understand."

      It was all plain enough, and disgustingly logical. To intrude upon the presence of a body was perfectly impossible; to try and force the hand of the bank cashier equally out of the question. As head of a great financial house, the Minister knew that. A platform inspector bustled along presently, with his hand to