Harry opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Though he was bigger and stronger than Robert, Harry knew first hand that Robert could be cruel, so he simply nodded at his instructions.

"Good, now -,"

Before he could finish the manager stepped in. "I said carry the luggage, Carrington. Is this man bothering you, sir?"

"Uh, no, not at all. He was, uh, just giving me directions."

Robert was about to tell the man to bugger off, and probably get into a lot of trouble for it. But Harry spoke first and Robert held his tongue.

"Good to hear, sir. If there is anything, just let us know." The manager disappeared.

"Absolute swine of a man. I swear, I'll get him fired one day." Robert glanced at Harry. "Nine sharp. Angel Inn. I'll explain everything then." And he walked away.

Being humiliated like this in front of someone Robert had always felt superior to was too hard to bear. He disappeared for a long unapproved bathroom break and daydreamed about how he would murder every single person in the station.

Harry watched the retreating Robert and his brow knit slightly. He had said Ten o clock at first and then said Nine o'clock at the Angel Inn. Which was it? Hardly sporting to confuse a friend like that. But with Robert's current mood, Harry decided not to ask clarifying questions and to just turn up at nine. That meant more drinking time anyway, which was probably the only form of entertainment in this rural hole.

Robert turned up at five past ten, no longer wearing the uniform, but dressed like a gentleman. "Oh good, you're here," he sat down. "How's Cambridge?"

Harry had dutifully arrived at five to nine, fearful that Robert would be there promptly and lash out at him for lateness. In the interim he had sampled the local ale - passable - and listened half-heartedly to the duffer in the corner recount being at the Battles of Inkerman and Balaclava while browsing an old newspaper. At the arrival of his friend, Harry folded the paper and put it aside. This was the Robert he knew: smartly turned out, eloquent, a real smasher with the girls, town or gown.

"Hallo. Cambridge? Awfully dull without you there, frankly. Too much studying for my taste. Does your little act at the station earlier have something to do with that?" Right down to business.

Robert was pleased to hear that Cambridge wasn't as much fun without him. God forbid Harry would actually develop a life of his own. But he grimaced when the young man brought up the scene at the station. He grimaced. "One moment." He waved a bartender over and ordered a beer. Then he turned back to his friend.

"Our family has been infiltrated by sly little a working class rat. He's seduced my poor sister Pearl, who has been in a delicate state of mind for some time, and has struck when my father was overcome with grief - or guilt, or whatever. He has turned my father against his own family. He's gotten my father to cut us out of his will and hand everything to Pearl and him, which of course means him, for she is a mere pawn in this. This is only the beginning, Hardcastle. First the vote. Then we thought them to read and write for themselves. And now they think they can take what doesn't belong to them. In the good old days he'd be horsewhipped for even talking to my sister."

"I say! How frightful." Harry answered wide-eyed. "What are you going to do?"

"We" he said, emphasizing that word, "are going to destroy him. We'll make an example out of him. We just need to find a way. Can't shoot him, tempting as that is. He's not worth hanging for..."