Arriving in good time at the little station at Verrières, where he was
about to take a train to Paris to keep his appointment at the Law
Courts, the old steward Dollon gave his parting instructions to his two
children, who had come to see him off.
"I must, of course, call upon Mme. de Vibray," he said, "and I don't yet
know what time M. Fuselier wants to see me at his office. Anyhow, if I
don't come back to-morrow, I will the next day, without fail. Well,
little ones, I'm just off now, so say good-bye and get home as fast as
you can. It looks to me as if there was going to be a storm, and I
should like to know that you were safe at home."
With heavy creaking of iron wheels, and hoarse blowing off of steam from
the engine, the Paris train drew into the station. The steward gave a
final kiss to his little son and daughter and got into a second-class
carriage.
* * * * *
In a neighbouring village a clock had just struck three.
The storm had been raging since early in the evening, but now it seemed
informed with a fresh fury: the rain was lashing down more fiercely, and
the wind was blowing harder still, making the slender poplars along the
railway line bow and bend before the squalls and assume the most
fantastic shapes, but vaguely shown against the night. The night was
inky black. The keenest eye could make out nothing at all distinctly,
even at the distance of a few yards: the darkness was so dense as to
seem absolutely solid.
Nevertheless, along the railway embankment, a man was making his way
with steady step, seeming not a whit disturbed by the tragic horror of
the storm.
He was a man of about thirty, rather well dressed in a large waterproof
coat, the collar of which, turned up to his ears, hid the lower part of
his face, and a big felt hat with brim turned down protecting him fairly
well from the worst of the weather. The man fought his way against the
wind, which drove into his overcoat with such force that sometimes it
almost stopped his progress, and he trod the stony track without paying
heed to the sorry plight into which it would most surely put the thin
boots he was wearing.
"Awful weather!" he growled: "I don't remember such a shocking night for
years: wind, rain, every conceivable thing! But I mustn't grumble, for
the total absence of moon will be uncommonly useful for my purpose." A
flash of lightning streaked the horizon, and the man stopped and looked
quickly about him. "I can't be far from the place," he thought, and
again went on his way. Presently he heaved a sigh of relief. "Here I am
at last."
At this spot the line was completely enclosed between two high slopes,
or ran at the bottom of a deep cutting.
"It's better here," the man said to himself; "the wind passes well above
my head, and the cutting gives good shelter." He stopped and carefully
deposited on the ground a rather bulky bundle he had been carrying under
his arm; then he began to pace up and down, stamping his feet in an
effort to keep warm. "It has just struck three," he muttered. "From the
time-table I can't expect anything for another ten minutes. Well, better
too soon than too late!" He contemplated the bundle which he had laid
down a few minutes before. "It's heavier than I thought, and deucedly in
the way. But it was absolutely necessary to bring it. And down here in
this cutting, there is nothing for me to be anxious about: the grass is
thick, so I can run, and the line is so straight that I shall see the
lights of the train a long way off." A thin smile curled his lips. "Who
would have thought, when I was in America, that I should ever find it so
useful to have learnt how to jump a train?"
A dull sound in the distance caught his ear. In a second he had sprung
to his bundle, picked it up, and, choosing a spot on the ballast,
crouched down listening. At the place where he stood the line ran up a
steep acclivity. It was from the lower end of this that the noise he had
heard proceeded, and now was growing louder, almost deafening. It was
the heavy, regular puffing of a powerful engine coming up a steep
gradient, under full steam.
"No mistake: my star is with me!" the man muttered, and as the train
approached he stretched his muscles and, taking a firmer grip of his
bundle, he bent forward in the stooping attitude that runners take when
about to start off in a race.
With a heavy roar, and enveloped in clouds of steam, the train came up
to where he was, travelling slowly because of the steep gradient,
certainly less than twenty miles an hour. The moment the engine had
passed him, the man started off, lithe as a cat, and ran at the top of
his speed. The train, of course, gained upon him; the tender, luggage
vans, and third-class carriages passed him, and a second-class carriage
was just coming up with him. The pace alone would have deprived almost
anyone else of power of thought, but this man was evidently a first-rate
athlete, for the moment he caught sight of the second-class carriage he
took his decision. With a tremendous effort he caught hold of the
hand-rail and sprang upon the footboard, where, with extraordinary
skill, he contrived to remain.
Reaching the summit of the slope, the train gathered speed, and with an
even louder roar began its headlong journey through the darkness and the
storm, which seemed to increase in intensity with every passing minute.
For a few seconds the man hung on where he was. Then, when he had
regained his breath, he got on to the upper step and listened at the
door of the corridor at which he found himself. "No one there," he
muttered. "Besides, everyone will be asleep," and, chancing everything,
he rose up, opened the door, and stepped into the second-class carriage
with a grunt of relief.
Making no attempt to conceal himself, he walked boldly into the lavatory
and washed his face that was blackened with the smoke from outside, and
then, in the most leisurely, natural way possible, he came out of the
lavatory and walked along the corridor, soliloquising aloud, manifestly
not minding whether he were overheard.
"It's positively maddening! No one can sleep, with travelling companions
like that!"
As he spoke he went along the corridor, rapidly glancing into every
compartment. In one, three men were asleep, obviously unaware that
anyone was surveying them from outside. The door of the compartment was
ajar, and the stranger noiselessly stepped within. The fourth corner was
unoccupied, and here the man took his seat, laying his bundle down
beside him, and feigning sleep. He waited, motionless, for a good
quarter of an hour, until he was quite satisfied that his companions
were really sleeping soundly, then he slid his hand into the bundle by
his side, seemed to be doing something inside it, then withdrew his hand
noiselessly, stepped out of the compartment, and carefully closed the
door.
In the corridor he drew a sigh of relieved satisfaction, and took a
cigar from his pocket.
"Everything is going splendidly," he said to himself. "I was cursing
this awful storm just now, but it is wonderfully useful to me. On such a
night as this no one would dream of opening the windows." He strolled up
and down, holding on to the hand-rail with one hand to maintain himself
against the rocking of the train, and every now and then taking out his
watch with the other to see the time. "I haven't any too much time," he
muttered. "I shall have to be quick, or my friend will miss his train!"
He smiled, as if amused at the idea, and then, holding his cigar away
from him so as not to inhale the smoke, he drew several deep breaths.
"There is a faint smell," he said, "but you would have to be told of it
to detect it. The devil of it is that it so often causes nightmare; that
would be awful!" He suspended his patrol and listened again. There was
no sound to be heard from within the compartments except the snoring of
a few travellers and the monotonous, rhythmical noise of the wheels
passing over the joints of the rails. "Come: I've waited twenty minutes;
it would be risky to wait longer; let's get to work!"
He stepped briskly back into the compartment, and furtively glancing
into the corridor to make sure that no one was there, he went across to
the opposite window and opened it wide. He put his head out into the air
for a minute or two, and then turned to examine his travelling
companions. All three were still sound asleep.
The man gave vent to a dry chuckle. He drew his bundle towards him, felt
until he found something within it, and flung it back on to the seat.
Then he walked up to the man opposite him, slipped his hand inside his
coat and abstracted a pocket-book and began to examine the papers it
contained. "Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly; "that was what I was afraid of!"
and taking one of the papers he put it inside his own pocket-book, chose
one from his own and put it into the other man's pocket-book, and then,
having effected this exchange, replaced the man's property and chuckled
again. "You do sleep!"
And indeed, although the pick-pocket took no particular precaution, the
man continued to sleep soundly, as did the other two men in the
compartment.
The thief looked once more at his watch.
"Time!"
He leaned out of the open window and slipped back the safety catch. Then
he opened the door quite wide, took the sleeping traveller by the
shoulders and picked him up from the seat, and with all his strength
sent him rolling out on to the line!
The next moment he seized from the rack the light articles that
evidently belonged to his victim, and threw them out after him.
When he had finished his ghastly work he rubbed his hands in
satisfaction. "Good!" he said, and closing the door again, but leaving
the window down, he left the compartment, not troubling to pick up his
belongings, and walked along the corridors to another second-class
compartment, towards the front of the train, in which he calmly
installed himself.
"Luck has been with me," he muttered as he stretched himself out on the
seat. "Everything has gone off well; no one has seen me, and those two
fools who might have upset my plans will wake up quite naturally when
they begin to feel the cold; and they will attribute the headache they
will probably feel to their tiring journey."
A train, travelling in the opposite direction, suddenly roared past the
window and made him jump. He started up, and smiled.
"'Gad! I said my friend would miss his train, but he'll catch it in
another five minutes! In another five minutes, luggage and body and the
entire caboodle will be mincemeat!" and as if completely reassured by
the idea he chuckled again. "Nothing could have gone better: I can have
a rest, and in an hour's time I shall be at Juvisy, where, thanks to my
forethought, I shall be able to whitewash myself--literally." One thing,
however, still seemed to worry him: he did not know exactly where on the
line he had thrown his unhappy victim, but he had an idea that the train
had run through a small station shortly afterwards; if that was so, the
body might be found sooner than he would have liked. He tried to dismiss
the notion from his mind, but he caught sight of the telegraph posts
speeding past the windows, and he shook his fist at them malignantly.
"That is the only thing that can harm me now," he muttered.
* * * * *
"Juvisy! Juvisy! Wait here two minutes!"
It was barely half-past six, and the porters hurried along the train,
calling out the name of the station, and rousing sleepy travellers from
their dreams. A man jumped nimbly out of a second-class carriage and
walked towards the exit from the station, holding out his ticket.
"Season," he said, and passed out rapidly.
"Good idea, that season ticket," he said to himself; "much less
dangerous than an ordinary ticket which the police could have traced."
He walked briskly towards the subway, crossed the main road, and took a
side turning that led down towards the Seine. Taking no notice of the
mud, the man went into a field and hid himself in a little thicket on
the river bank. He looked carefully all around him to make sure that he
was unobserved, then took off his overcoat, jacket and trousers, and
drawing a bundle from one of the pockets of his large waterproof,
proceeded to dress himself anew. As soon as he was dressed, he spread
the waterproof out on the ground, folded up in it the clothes and hat he
had previously been wearing, added a number of heavy stones, and tied
the whole bundle up with a piece of string. He swung it once or twice at
the full length of his arm, and sent it hurtling right into the middle
of the river, where it sank at once.
A few minutes later a bricklayer in his working clothes presented
himself at the Juvisy booking office.
"A workman's ticket to Paris, please, missus," he said, and having got
it, the man went on to the departure platform. "It would have been risky
to use my own ticket," he muttered. "This return ticket will put them
off the scent," and with a smile he waited for the train that would take
him to Paris.
* * * * *
The slow train from Luchon was drawing near its Paris terminus and the
travellers were all making hasty toilettes and tidying themselves up
after their long night journey. Just, however, as it was approaching the
goods station it slowed down and stopped. The passengers, surprised, put
their heads out of the windows, to ascertain the reason for the
unexpected delay, hazarding various conjectures but unanimous in their
vituperation of the company.
Three men were walking slowly along the line, looking carefully at every
door. Two were porters, and they were manifesting the most respectful
attention to everything the third man said: he was a grave individual,
very correctly attired.
"Look there, sir," one of the porters exclaimed; "there is a door where
the safety catch has either been undone or not fastened; that is the
only one on the train."
"That is so," said the gentleman, and grasping the handle he opened the
door of the compartment and got in. Two travellers were busy strapping
up their bags, and they turned round in simultaneous surprise.
"You will pardon me, gentlemen, when you know who I am," said the
intruder, and throwing open his coat he showed his tricolour scarf. "I
have to make enquiry relative to a dead body that has been found on the
line near Brétigny; it probably fell from this train, and perhaps from
this compartment, for I have just observed that the safety catch is not
fastened. Where did you get into the train?"
The two passengers looked at one another in astonishment.
"What a dreadful thing!" one of them exclaimed. "Why, sir, to-night,
while my friend here and I were asleep, one of our fellow-travellers did
disappear. I made a remark about it, but this gentleman very reasonably
pointed out that he must have got out at some station while we were
asleep."
The official was keenly interested.
"What was this passenger like?"
"Quite easily recognised, sir; a man of about sixty, rather stout, and
wearing whiskers."
"That tallies with the description. Might he have been a butler or a
steward?"
"That is exactly what he looked like."
"Then that must be the man whose body has been found upon the line. But
I do not know whether it is to be regarded as a case of suicide or of
murder, for some hand baggage has been picked up as well: a suicide
would not have thrown his luggage out, and a thief would not have wanted
to get rid of it."
The passenger who had not yet spoken, broke in.
"You are wrong, sir; at any rate all his luggage was not thrown on to
the line," and he pointed to the bundle left upon the seat. "I thought
that belonged to the gentleman here, but he has just told me it isn't
his."
The official rapidly unfastened the straps and started back.
"Hullo! A bottle of liquid carbonic acid! Now what does that mean?" He
looked at it. "Did this bundle belong to the man who disappeared?"
The two passengers shook their heads.
"I don't think so," one of them said; "I should certainly have noticed
that Scotch rug; but I did not see it."
"Then there was a fourth passenger in this compartment?" the official
enquired.
"No, we travelled alone," said one of the men, but the other dissented.
"It is very odd, and I am not sure about it, but I really am wondering
whether someone did not get into our compartment last night while we
were asleep. I have a vague impression that someone did, but I can't be
sure."
"Do try to remember, sir," the official urged him; "it is of the very
highest importance."
But the passenger shook his shoulders doubtfully.
"No, I really can't say anything definite; and, besides, I have a
shocking headache."
The official was silent for a minute or two.
"In my opinion, gentlemen, you have been uncommonly lucky to escape
murder yourselves. I do not quite understand yet how the murder was
done, but I incline to think it proves almost incredible daring.
However----" He stopped and put his head out of the window. "You can
send the train on now," he called to a porter, and resumed: "However, I
must ask you to accompany me to the stationmaster's office and give me
your names and addresses, and to help me afterwards in the conduct of
the legal investigation."
The two travellers looked at one another in distressed surprise.
"It is really appalling," said one of them; "you're not safe anywhere
nowadays."
"You really aren't," the other agreed. "Such a number of awful murders
and crimes are being perpetrated every day that you would think not one,
but a dozen Fantômas were at work!"