n8 WITH MR. CHAMBERLAIN IN THE 



Our route back to Washington was via Rochester, 

 Williamsport, Harrisburg, and Baltimore, a rough 

 road through the heart of the Pennsylvania coal- 

 fields. " The Cumberland " was hitched on to the 

 end of the train by a stout hook, but no couplings 

 to steady it. It looked like a huge Swiss cottage 

 towering above the other cars on the train, and had 

 never been utilised on the American roads before. 

 I felt convinced it would sway about a lot, and I 

 asked the stationmaster at Niagara if he thought 

 we'd clear the bridges all right. " Well ! I guess 

 it's just about all you will do," was his laconic 

 reply. We left Niagara a little before four in the 

 afternoon, and in due course the chef served up an 

 excellent repast. Mr. Chamberlain, for once in a 

 way, retired to his couch fairly early. Bergne and I 

 played piquet till about two, when he " turned in." 

 I still had a kind of presentiment that there would 

 be a " happening " of some sort, and concluded to sit 

 up and hear some of Hinde's interesting detective 

 experiences, with which he was ever ready to regale 

 me. An hour or two later, some thirty-eight miles to 

 the north of Harrisburg, what I had all along appre- 

 hended came to pass. I suppose we were travelling 

 about forty miles an hour when bang came the top 

 corner of " The Cumberland " against the arch of 



