The stages came early in February, 1 winterly day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, working from brambleHurst railway station, pant carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He is wrapped up from head to foot, and the brim of a soft felt had hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose; the snow had built itself against his shoulders and chest,
