I secured a place with difficulty; there was rather a rush for the St.
Gothard express when it ran in. It was composed as usual of corridor
carriages, all classes _en suite_, and I knew that it would be
impossible to conceal the fact that I was on board the train. Within
five minutes Jules had verified the fact and taken seats in the
immediate neighbourhood, to which he and the Colonel presently came.
"Quite a pleasant little party!" he said in a bantering tone. "All
bound for Locarno, eh? Ever been to Locarno before, Mr. Falfani?
Delightful lake, Maggiore. Many excursions, especially by steamer; the
Borromean islands well worth seeing, and Baveno and Stresa and the
road to the Simplon."
I refused to be drawn, and only muttered that I hated excursions and
steamers and lakes, and wished to be left in peace.
"A little out of sorts, I'm afraid, Mr. Falfani. Sad that. Too many
emotions, want of sleep, perhaps. You _would_ do _too_ much last
night." He still kept up his hateful babble, and Jules maddened me by
his sniggering enjoyment of my discomfiture.
More than ever did I set my brain to puzzle out some way of escaping
this horrible infliction. Was it not possible to give them the slip,
somehow, somewhere? I took the Colonel's hint, and pretended to take
refuge in sleep, and at last, I believe, I dozed off. It must have
been in my dreams that an idea came to me, a simple idea, easy of
execution with luck and determination.
It was suggested to me by the short tunnels that succeed so frequently
in the ascent of the St. Gothard Alps. They are, as most people know,
a chief feature in the mountain railway, and a marvel of engineering
skill, being cut in circles to give the necessary length and gain the
height with a moderate gradient. Speed is so far slackened that it
would be quite possible to drop off the train without injury whenever
inclined. My only difficulty would be to alight without interference
from my persecutors.
I nursed my project with eyes shut, still feigning sleep; and my
extreme quiescence had, as I hoped, the effect of throwing them off
their guard. Jules, like all in the same employment, was always ready
for forty winks, and I saw that he was sound and snoring just as we
entered the last tunnel before reaching the entrance of the final
great tunnel at Goeschenen. I could not be quite sure of the Colonel,
but his attitude was that of a man resting, and who had very nearly
lost himself, if he had not quite gone off.
Now was my time. If it was to be done at all it must be quickly,
instantaneously almost. Fortunately we sat at the extreme end of a
coach, in the last places, and besides we three there was only one
other occupant in the compartment of six. The fourth passenger was
awake, but I made a bid for his good-will by touching my lips with a
finger, and the next minute I was gone.
I expected to hear the alarm given at my disappearance, but none
reached my ears, as the train rattled past me with its twinkling
lights and noisy road. I held myself close against the side of the
tunnel in perfect safety, although the hot wind of the passing cars
fanned my cheek and rather terrified me. The moment the train was well
gone I faced the glimmering light that showed the entrance to the
tunnel at the further end from the station, and ran to it with all
speed.
I knew that my jump from the train could not pass unnoticed, and I
counted on being followed. I expected that the tunnel would be
explored by people from Goeschenen so soon as the train ran in and
reported. My first object, therefore, was to quit the line, and I did
so directly I was clear of the tunnel. I climbed the fence, dropped
into a road, left that again to ascend the slope and take shelter
among the rocks and trees.
The pursuit, if any, was not very keen or long maintained. When all
was quiet, an hour later I made for the highroad, the famous old road
that leads through the Devil's Pass to Andermatt, three miles above. I
altogether avoided the Goeschenen station, fearing any inconvenient
inquiries, and abandoned all idea of getting the telegram from Tiler
that might be possibly awaiting me. It did not much matter. I should
be obliged now to send him fresh news, news of the changed plans that
took me direct into Brieg; and on entering Andermatt I came upon the
post-office, just where I wanted it, both to send my message and order
an extra post carriage from Brieg.
It was with a sense of intense relief that I sank back into the
cushions and felt that at last I was free. My satisfaction was
abruptly destroyed. Long before I reached Hospenthal, a mile or so
from Andermatt, I was disturbed by strange cries to the accompaniment
of harness bells.
"Yo-icks, Yo-icks, G-o-ne away!" was borne after me with all the force
of stentorian lungs, and looking round I saw to my horror a second
carriage coming on at top speed, and beyond all question aiming to
overtake us. Soon they drew nearer, near enough for speech, and the
accursed Colonel hailed me.
"Why, you cunning fox, so you broke cover and got away all in a
moment! Lucky you were seen leaving the train, or we might have
overrun the scent and gone on."
I did not answer.
"Nice morning for a drive, Mr. Falfani, and a long drive," he went on,
laughing boisterously. "Going all the way to Brieg by road, I believe?
So are we. Pity we did not join forces. One carriage would have done
for all three of us."
Still I did not speak.
"A bit ugly, eh? Don't fuss, man. It's all in the day's work."
With that I desired my driver to pull up, and waved my hand to the
others, motioning to them that the road was theirs.
But when I stopped they stopped, and the Colonel jeered. When I drove
on they came along too, laughing. We did this several times; and when
at the two roads just through Hospenthal, one by the St. Gothard, the
other leading to the Furka, I took the first for a short distance,
then turned back, just to try my pursuers. They still stuck to me. My
heart sank within me. I was in this accursed soldier's claws. He had
collared me, he was on my back, and I felt that I must throw up the
sponge.
"I gave you fair notice that you would not get rid of me, and by
heaven you shall not," he cried fiercely, putting off all at once the
lighter mockery of his tone. "I know what is taking you to Brieg. You
think to find your confederate there, and you hope that, combined, the
two of you will get the better of that lady. You sha'n't, not if I can
prevent you by any means in my power; understand that, and look out
for squalls if you try."
I confess he cowed me; he was so strong, so masterful, and, as I
began to fear, so unscrupulous, that I felt I could not make head
against him. Certainly not alone. I must have Tiler's help, his
counsel, countenance, active support. I must get in touch with him at
the earliest possible moment and my nearest way to him, situated as I
was now, must be at or through Brieg.
So I resigned myself to my fate, and suffered myself to be driven on
with my pertinacious escort hanging on to me mile after mile of my
wearing and interminable journey. We pulled up for luncheon and a
short rest at the Furka; again in the afternoon at the Rhone Glacier.
Then we pursued our way all along the valley, with the great snow peak
of the Matterhorn in front of us, through village and hamlet, in the
fast fading light, and so on under the dark but luminous sky into
Munster, Fiesch, and Morel, till at length we rolled into Brieg about
11 P.M.
I drove straight to the Hôtel de la Poste, careless that my tormentors
were accompanying me; they could do me no more harm, and Tiler was at
hand to help in vindicating our position.
There was no Tiler at the Hôtel de la Poste; no Tiler in Brieg. Only
a brief telegram from him conveying unwelcome and astounding
intelligence. It had been despatched from Vevey about 2 P.M.,
and it said:
"Lost her somewhere between this and Lausanne. Am trying back. Shall
wire you again to Brieg. Wait there or leave address."
My face must have betrayed my abject despair. I was so completely
knocked over that I offered no opposition when the Colonel impudently
took the telegram out of my hand and read it coolly.
"Drawn blank!" he cried, unable to contain himself for joy. "By the
Lord Harry, that's good."