CHAPTER XLVI
THE SUDDEN STOPPING
As we were leaving the house a constable gave the Inspector a note.Having read it he passed it to me. It was from the local office.
'Message received that an Arab with a big bundle on his head has beennoticed loitering about the neighbourhood of St Pancras Station. Heseemed to be accompanied by a young man who had the appearance of atramp. Young man seemed ill. They appeared to be waiting for a train,probably to the North. Shall I advise detention?'
I scribbled on the flyleaf of the note.
'Have them detained. If they have gone by train have a special inreadiness.'
In a minute we were again in the cab. I endeavoured to persuadeLessingham and Atherton to allow me to conduct the pursuit alone,--invain. I had no fear of Atherton's succumbing, but I was afraid forLessingham. What was more almost than the expectation of his collapsewas the fact that his looks and manner, his whole bearing, so eloquentof the agony and agitation of his mind, was beginning to tell upon mynerves. A catastrophe of some sort I foresaw. Of the curtain's fallupon one tragedy we had just been witnesses. That there was worse--muchworse, to follow I did not doubt. Optimistic anticipations were out ofthe question,--that the creature we were chasing would relinquish theprey uninjured, no one, after what we had seen and heard, could by anypossibility suppose. Should a necessity suddenly arise for prompt andimmediate action, that Lessingham would prove a hindrance rather than ahelp I felt persuaded.
But since moments were precious, and Lessingham was not to be persuadedto allow the matter to proceed without him, all that remained was tomake the best of his presence.
The great arch of St Pancras was in darkness. An occasional lightseemed to make the darkness still more visible. The station seemeddeserted. I thought, at first, that there was not a soul about theplace, that our errand was in vain, that the only thing for us to dowas to drive to the police station and to pursue our inquiries there.But as we turned towards the booking-office, our footsteps ringing outclearly through the silence and the night, a door opened, a light shoneout from the room within, and a voice inquired:
'Who's that?'
'My name's Champnell. Has a message been received from me from theLimehouse Police Station?'
'Step this way.'
We stepped that way,--into a snug enough office, of which one of therailway inspectors was apparently in charge. He was a big man, with afair beard. He looked me up and down, as if doubtfully. Lessingham herecognised at once. He took off his cap to him.
'Mr Lessingham, I believe?'
'I am Mr Lessingham. Have you any news for me?
I fancy, by his looks,--that the official was struck by the pallor ofthe speaker's face,--and by his tremulous voice.
'I am instructed to give certain information to a Mr AugustusChampnell.'
'I am Mr Champnell. What's your information?'
'With reference to the Arab about whom you have been making inquiries.A foreigner, dressed like an Arab, with a great bundle on his head,took two single thirds for Hull by the midnight express.'
'Was he alone?'
'It is believed that he was accompanied by a young man of verydisreputable appearance. They were not together at the booking-office,but they had been seen together previously. A minute or so after theArab had entered the train this young man got into the samecompartment--they were in the front waggon.'
'Why were they not detained?'
'We had no authority to detain them, nor any reason, until your messagewas received a few minutes ago we at this station were not aware thatinquiries were being made for them.'
'You say he booked to Hull,--does the train run through to Hull?'
'No--it doesn't go to Hull at all. Part of it's the Liverpool andManchester Express, and part of it's for Carlisle. It divides at Derby.The man you're looking for will change either at Sheffield or atCudworth Junction and go on to Hull by the first train in the morning.There's a local service.'
I looked at my watch.
'You say the train left at midnight. It's now nearly five-and-twentypast. Where's it now?'
'Nearing St Albans, it's due there 12.35.'
'Would there be time for a wire to reach St Albans?'
'Hardly,--and anyhow there'll only be enough railway officials aboutthe place to receive and despatch the train. They'll be fully occupiedwith their ordinary duties. There won't be time to get the policethere.'
'You could wire to St Albans to inquire if they were still in thetrain?'
'That could be done,--certainly. I'll have it done at once if you like.
'Then where's the next stoppage?'
'Well, they're at Luton at 12.51. But that's another case of St Albans.You see there won't be much more than twenty minutes by the time you'vegot your wire off, and I don't expect there'll be many people awake atLuton. At these country places sometimes there's a policeman hangingabout the station to see the express go through, but, on the otherhand, very often there isn't, and if there isn't, probably at this timeof night it'll take a good bit of time to get the police on thepremises. I tell you what I should advise.'
'What's that?'
'The train is due at Bedford at 1.29--send your wire there. There oughtto be plenty of people about at Bedford, and anyhow there'll be time toget the police to the station.'
'Very good. I instructed them to tell you to have a specialready,--have you got one?'
'There's an engine with steam up in the shed,--we'll have all ready foryou in less than ten minutes. And I tell you what,--you'll have aboutfifty minutes before the train is due at Bedford. It's a fifty milerun. With luck you ought to get there pretty nearly as soon as theexpress does.--Shall I tell them to get ready?'
'At once.'
While he issued directions through a telephone to what, I presume, wasthe engine shed, I drew up a couple of telegrams. Having completed hisorders he turned to me.
'They're coming out of the siding now--they'll be ready in less thanten minutes. I'll see that the line's kept clear. Have you got thosewires?'
'Here is one,--this is for Bedford.'
It ran:
'Arrest the Arab who is in train due at 1.29. When leaving St Pancrashe was in a third-class compartment in front waggon. He has a largebundle, which detain. He took two third singles for Hull. Also detainhis companion, who is dressed like a tramp. This is a young lady whomthe Arab has disguised and kidnapped while in a condition of hypnotictrance. Let her have medical assistance and be taken to a hotel. Allexpenses will be paid on the arrival of the undersigned who isfollowing by special train. As the Arab will probably be very violent asufficient force of police should be in waiting.
'AUGUSTUS CHAMPNELL.'
'And this is the other. It is probably too late to be of any use at StAlbans,--but send it there, and also to Luton.' 'Is Arab with companionin train which left St Pancras at 13.0? If so, do not let them get outtill train reaches Bedford, where instructions are being wired forarrest.'
The Inspector rapidly scanned them both.
'They ought to do your business, I should think. Come along withme--I'll have them sent at once, and we'll see if your train's ready.'
The train was not ready,--nor was it ready within the prescribed tenminutes. There was some hitch, I fancy, about a saloon. Finally we hadto be content with an ordinary old-fashioned first-class carriage. Thedelay, however, was not altogether time lost. Just as the engine withits solitary coach was approaching the platform someone came running upwith an envelope in his hand.
'Telegram from St Albans.'
I tore it open. It was brief and to the point.
'Arab with companion was in train when it left here. Am wiring Luton.'
'That's all right. Now unless something wholly unforeseen takes place,we ought to have them.'
That unforeseen!
I went forward with the Inspector and the guard of our train toexchange a few final words with the driver. The Inspector explainedwhat instructions he had given.
'I've told the driver not to spare his coal but to take you intoBedford within five minutes after the arrival of the express. He sayshe thinks that he can do it.'
The driver leaned over his engine, rubbing his hands with the usualoily rag. He was a short, wiry man with grey hair and a grizzledmoustache, with about him that bearing of semi-humorous, frank-facedresolution which one notes about engine-drivers as a class.
'We ought to do it, the gradients are against us, but it's a clearnight and there's no wind. The only thing that will stop us will be ifthere's any shunting on the road, or any luggage trains; of course, ifwe are blocked, we are blocked, but the Inspector says he'll clear theway for us.'
'Yes,' said the Inspector, 'I'll clear the way. I've wired down theroad already.'
Atherton broke in.
'Driver, if you get us into Bedford within five minutes of the arrivalof the mail there'll be a five-pound note to divide between your mateand you.'
The driver grinned.
'We'll get you there in time, sir, if we have to go clear through theshunters. It isn't often we get a chance of a five-pound note for a runto Bedford, and we'll do our best to earn it.'
The fireman waved his hand in the rear.
'That's right, sir!' he cried. 'We'll have to trouble you for thatfive-pound note.'
So soon as we were clear of the station it began to seem probable that,as the fireman put it, Atherton would be 'troubled.' Journeying in atrain which consists of a single carriage attached to an engine whichis flying at topmost speed is a very different business from being anoccupant of an ordinary train which is travelling at ordinary expressrates. I had discovered that for myself before. That night it wasimpressed on me more than ever. A tyro--or even a nervous'season'--might have been excused for expecting at every moment we weregoing to be derailed. It was hard to believe that the carriage had anysprings,--it rocked and swung, and jogged and jolted. Of smoothtravelling had we none. Talking was out of the question;--and for that,I, personally, was grateful. Quite apart from the difficulty weexperienced in keeping our seats--and when every moment our positionwas being altered and we were jerked backwards and forwards up anddown, this way and that, that was a business which required care,--thenoise was deafening. It was as though we were being pursued by a legionof shrieking, bellowing, raging demons.
'George!' shrieked Atherton, 'he does mean to earn that fiver. I hopeI'll be alive to pay it him!'
He was only at the other end of the carriage, but though I could see bythe distortion of his visage that he was shouting at the top of hisvoice,--and he has a voice,--I only caught here and there a word or twoof what he was saying. I had to make sense of the whole.
Lessingham's contortions were a study. Few of that large multitude ofpersons who are acquainted with him only by means of the portraitswhich have appeared in the illustrated papers, would then haverecognised the rising statesman. Yet I believe that few things couldhave better fallen in with his mood than that wild travelling. He mighthave been almost shaken to pieces,--but the very severity of theshaking served to divert his thoughts from the one dread topic whichthreatened to absorb them to the exclusion of all else beside. Thenthere was the tonic influence of the element of risk. The pick-me-upeffect of a spice of peril. Actual danger there quite probably wasnone; but there very really seemed to be. And one thing was absolutelycertain, that if we did come to smash while going at that speed weshould come to as everlasting smash as the heart of man could by anypossibility desire. It is probable that the knowledge that this was sowarmed the blood in Lessingham's veins. At any rate as--to use what inthis case, was simply a form of speech--I sat and watched him, itseemed to me that he was getting a firmer hold of the strength whichhad all but escaped him, and that with every jog and jolt he wasbecoming more and more of a man.
On and on we went dashing, clashing, smashing, roaring, rumbling.Atherton, who had been endeavouring to peer through the window,strained his lungs again in the effort to make himself audible.
'Where the devil are we?'
Looking at my watch I screamed back at him.
'It's nearly one, so I suppose we're somewhere in the neighbourhood ofLuton.--Hollo! What's the matter?'
That something was the matter seemed certain. There was a shrillwhistle from the engine. In a second we were conscious--almost tooconscious--of the application of the Westinghouse brake. Of all thejolting that was ever jolted! the mere reverberation of the carriagethreatened to resolve our bodies into their component parts. Feelingwhat we felt then helped us to realise the retardatory force which thatvacuum brake must be exerting,--it did not seem at all surprising thatthe train should have been brought to an almost instant stand-still.
Simultaneously all three of us were on our feet. I let down my windowand Atherton let down his,--he shouting out,
'I should think that Inspector's wire hasn't had it's proper effect,looks as if we're blocked--or else we've stopped at Luton. It can't beBedford.'
It wasn't Bedford--so much seemed clear. Though at first from my windowI could make out nothing. I was feeling more than a trifledazed,--there was a singing in my ears,--the sudden darkness wasimpenetrable. Then I became conscious that the guard was opening thedoor of his compartment. He stood on the step for a moment, seeming tohesitate. Then, with a lamp in his hand, he descended on to the line.
'What's the matter?' I asked.
'Don't know, sir. Seems as if there was something on the road. What'sup there?'
This was to the man on the engine. The fireman replied:
'Someone in front there's waving a red light like mad,--lucky I caughtsight of him, we should have been clean on top of him in anothermoment. Looks as if there was something wrong. Here he comes.'
As my eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness I became aware thatsomeone was making what haste he could along the six-foot way, swinginga red light as he came. Our guard advanced to meet him, shouting as hewent:
'What's the matter! Who's that?'
A voice replied,
'My God! Is that George Hewett. I thought you were coming right on topof us!'
Our guard again.
'What! Jim Branson! What the devil are you doing here, what's wrong? Ithought you were on the twelve out, we're chasing you.'
'Are you? Then you've caught us. Thank God for it!--We're a wreck.'
I had already opened the carriage door. With that we all threeclambered out on to the line.
The Beetle: A Mystery Page 46
