On the night in question the 'Fly' had a slight advantage, and but a slight one.

Before the coachman had time to descend from his ample seat, the 'Flash of Lightning' came dashing in at a most reckless speed--the unfortunate horses snorting and panting--steaming with smoke, which rose from them in white wreaths, and streaming in such a manner with perspiration that it was painful to look upon them.
Crackenfudge was one of the first out of the 'Flash of Lightning', which, we should say, drew up at a rival establishment, directly opposite that which patronized the 'Fly'.

He lost no time in sending in his trunk by "boots," or some other of those harpies that are always connected with large hotels in the metropolis.

Having accomplished this, he set himself, but quite in a careless way, to watch the motions of the stranger.

For this purpose he availed himself of a position from whence he could see without being himself seen.