THE STRANGER
The train went slowly rumbling by; who looked out of the windows
Rodney neither knew nor cared. He was conscious of the guard's van
passing, then the train had gone. He could see the tail lights moving
quicker and quicker through the darkness. He himself continued
motionless. He had realised by now that it was not his uncle who had
alighted; that it was the door of the next compartment which had been
opened. He could not believe that his own movements had been observed.
He doubted if they could have been seen by a person who had not
actually got his head out at the moment--even by his next door
neighbour. He was certain that no head had been out. The thing had
been a coincidence--a strange one, but nothing more. Someone also had
reasons for wishing to quit the train in an unusual manner; someone
who was unaware that he was out already. The chances were that he had
not been noticed; that, if he kept quite still, he would not be
noticed. The stranger would blunder along without ever becoming
cognisant of his near neighbourhood; whichever way the stranger went,
he would go the other.
Now that the train had left, it was very still in the tunnel; the air
was close, full of smoke, which was bad both for the throat and the
eyes. Something had dropped once or twice on Rodney's shoulder. He had
heard that it was sometimes damp in tunnels; possibly it was moisture
dropping from the brickwork overhead. He would have liked to move so
as to avoid it, but was reluctant to make a sound--till the stranger
had moved. He wondered what the stranger was doing; silence continued
for what seemed to him to be a preternatural length of time. Possibly,
less fortunate than himself, the stranger had been hurt in alighting,
which explained the stillness. If that were so, his own position might
be difficult. If he moved first the stranger might claim his help,
might make a fuss if he refused it--such a fuss that the fact that he
had left the train would be discovered.
Still not a sound. Momentarily the situation was becoming more
delicate. He could not remain crouched down like that for ever, with
big drops of something falling on to his shoulder. What should he do?
The question was answered for him.
"Caught you!"
The words were whispered close to his ear. He stood straight up
suddenly, startled half out of his wits. His impulse was to
fly--anywhere, anyhow. Then that wonderful presence of mind of his,
which never left him long, came back; he realised that haste on his
part might involve disaster. He stood bolt upright, quite still, with
fists clenched, prepared for anything.
Something came; fingers were laid upon his coat-sleeve. He showed no
sign of resenting their coming, their touch was so soft that it hardly
suggested danger. A voice came to him through the darkness, the one
which had so startled him by whispering in his ear.
"That was a capital idea of yours--capital."
To Rodney's acute sense of hearing there seemed to be a curious
quality in the voice; he was not sure if it belonged to a man or a
woman. It came again.
"Have you ever been in a tunnel before? I haven't."
The last two words were spoken with a snigger which was certainly a
man's, though he still felt that the voice itself might be either
masculine or feminine. He had a fastidious taste in voices; apart from
the circumstances under which he heard it, that one affected him
unpleasantly. It continued, and his distaste grew.
"Do you know that our getting out here in the tunnel has proved
something which I have always held as an article of faith; that I have
cat's eyes--positively? Isn't it droll? I can see you--not plainly,
but sufficiently well. Now I dare say you can't see me at all!"
Rodney could not; he did not believe that the stranger could see him.
Darkness was about them like a wall.
"Come!"
He felt the fingers which had rested on his sleeve slipped under his
arm.
"I will guide you; let me turn you round. We will go this way, towards
the signal. You see?--it is set at danger. Some people would say that
we are in rather a dangerous position."
Again that unpleasantly sounding snigger.
"I hope you're not feeling nervous; you needn't. That signal is not
far off, and when we reach it we are out in the open. I know exactly
where we are; this is Redhill tunnel. Not only can I see in the dark,
dimly, but still see, but I also have, in a curious degree, the bump
of locality. With me it amounts almost to an additional sense. I
always know where I am, even when I am in a strange place; in a place
in which I have been before I have an incredible perception of my
surroundings. For three years I lived quite close to this--in
Earlswood Asylum, as a patient."
Earlswood Asylum! Then the creature was a lunatic. That explained the
singularity of his voice, of his manner, his proceedings. An idea came
into Rodney's head. The creature was small; he felt, as he moved
beside him with his hand under his arm, that he probably did not reach
to his shoulder. It would be easy to leave him in the tunnel. Who
cares what happens to a lunatic?
"I shouldn't if I were you; it wouldn't pay."
The words were so apposite that, despite himself, Rodney started. He
had not spoken. Could the creature read what was passing through his
brain?
"There are times when I can read people's thoughts just as plainly
as if they had spoken them out loud, even when I can't see their
faces--really! Isn't it odd? Oh, I am quite gifted. My argument always
has been that, in a general way, a lunatic is merely abnormal, nothing
more. At intervals a cloud settles on my brain; I can see, I can
feel it coming; then, for an indefinite period, I am on the lap
of the gods. When it passes my senses are more acute than other
people's--abnormally acute, I know it as a fact. Now you see, as I
told you, we are out in the open--look! the stars are shining. Look
back at the tunnel; isn't it a horror of blackness? Like the horror I
know. If we scramble up that bank we shall probably find a gap in the
hedge at the top; platelayers often do leave a gap in a hedge close
to the wall of a tunnel that they may descend to the line. As I told
you, here's our gap; now, over the fence, and the rest is easy
sailing."
It seemed to Rodney that since he had quitted the train something must
have happened to him mentally; it was as if, all at once, he were
playing a part in a dream. In silence, without offering the least
remonstrance, he had suffered the stranger to pilot him out of the
tunnel, up the steep bank beyond--to dominate him wholly. Now, except
that they seemed to be standing in an open space of considerable size,
he had not the dimmest notion of their whereabouts; but to the
stranger it all seemed plain.
"That big building on our right's an orphanage--St. Anne's; I believe
we're on their ground. If we keep straight on to our left we shall
come to the high road, from which it is only a few minutes to Redhill
station, whence we shall continue our journey to town. Quite an
interesting episode this has been, has it not? I am indebted to you
for much entertainment. I have seldom had so much enjoyment in a
train, Mr. Elmore."
The creature knew his name! How? Who was he? What did it mean? Again
he was conscious of an impulse to take him by the throat and--resolve
the question in his own fashion. How came the creature to know his
name? Although he had uttered no articulate sound, he had his answer.
"The explanation is simple, explanations often are. I heard your uncle
address you by your name in a most audible tone of voice just towards
the close. Most people have no idea how thin the partition really is
which divides one compartment from another. Do you know I have heard
that in some instances it is made of papier-mache--fancy! You can
always hear if a conversation is taking place in an adjoining
compartment--it is surprising how much you can hear if you try,
especially if your hearing is as good as mine is--that's another of my
gifts. I had my ear glued to the partition most of the time. Of
course, I could not hear everything--and I should very much have liked
to see, but I gathered enough to enable me to form a general idea,
particularly when you began to use violence towards your uncle and to
hurl him back into his seat--it amounted to hurling. You see, I was
his side. And, of course, when you both raised your voices I could
hear a very great deal. I was not in the least surprised at the
silence which followed. I understood--oh, I understood! At least, I
think I understood. It was perfectly plain that only one person was
left in the compartment who counted, and, of course, I knew that was
you. I said to myself: 'Now, I wonder how long he'll stay there all
alone? He's sure to take advantage of the first opportunity of getting
out if the train stops or slows, and if he gets out I'll get out too.'
Wasn't it lucky that it stopped in a tunnel, and that, therefore, we
were both of us able to get out without being observed? Quite a stroke
of fortune! Here we are, right on the high road, with the station a
little more than a stone's throw in front of us."
Rodney listened to what the stranger had to say as, side by side, they
tramped across the uneven ground with feelings which he would not have
found it easy to clothe with words. Beyond all doubt this was a
lunatic; but of what an uncomfortable kind! He had been wiser to have
acted on his first impulse and to have left him in the tunnel. Now it
was too late; it would not be the same thing to--leave him there. Yet,
if he continued in his company, how should he muzzle him? With what
would he make him dumb? By what means could he keep him from blurting
out the whole story to the first person they might meet? Once more,
though he had uttered not a syllable, there came an answer.
"You run no risk of my blabbing, I am not that kind of person--at
least, while the cloud is yet afar off. Afterwards, believe me, no one
pays any heed to what I say. I play the part of audience only. I am
not, like you, one of Nature's criminals; but I am indifferent, which
is about the same. What A does to B is A's business and B's, not mine;
that I always shall maintain. Here we are at the station. It's been
altered since my time; they've given it a new front. When is the next
train to town?"
He put the question quite naturally to a porter who was standing
about.
"Ten-forty; nearly half an hour to wait--that is if she is punctual,
which she's not always of a Sunday night."
The stranger addressed himself to Elmore.
"That, perhaps, is fortunate, since that will enable me to offer you a
little refreshment, of which I dare say both of us stand in need."
Rodney, always speechless, walked beside the stranger to the
refreshment bar. Now he could see him plainly. A notion which had been
fluttering at the back of his head took flight; there was no
suggestion of a detective police official about him. He was shorter
even than he had imagined, probably scarcely over five feet high; a
mean-looking, ill-shapen fellow, with one shoulder higher than the
other, which gave him an appearance of being one-sided. Badly dressed
in an ill-fitting suit of rusty dark-grey tweed, clumsily shod, tie
disarranged, doubtful collar, old tweed hat shaped like a billycock,
about him the air of one who was not over fond of soap and water.
Probably between fifty and sixty, a round, hairless, wizened face, all
wrinkles, flat, snub nose, curiously small mouth--Rodney wondered if
the peculiarity of his voice was owing to its coming through so
small an aperture; queer, big, oval, ugly eyes--small pupils floating
in a sea of yellow. The young gentleman was conscious of what an
ill-assorted couple they must appear. He would have liked very much to
put a termination to the association then and there, but--he could
not, it was too late.
The stranger on his part seemed sublimely unaware of there being
anything odd in their companionship. He gave his order to the young
lady on the other side of the counter.
"One brandy, two Scotch whiskies, and a small soda divided."
The young lady looked as if she was not quite sure that she had caught
what he said.
"I beg your pardon."
"I said one brandy, two Scotch whiskies, and a small soda divided.
You've quite right, there are only two of us; I take brandy and whisky
together--I'm a lunatic."
Two young men at the other end, with whom the young lady had been
talking, looked at each other and smiled. The young lady also smiled,
under the apparent impression that, somewhere, there was a joke.
"It is rather unusual, isn't it?"
"Not at all--with lunatics."
It was not easy for standers-by to decide whether or not he was in
earnest. Rodney was in doubt; indeed, the man's words and manner
started him wondering to what extent, in all he had been saying, the
fellow had been "pulling his leg."
The young lady passed three glasses to their side of the counter. The
stranger, taking two, emptied one into the other. He held it up
towards Rodney.
"Your very good health, and the next time we meet may you afford me as
much entertainment."
Swallowing the contents of the glass at a single gulp, he replaced it
on the counter.
"The same again, miss; one brandy, one Scotch whisky; lunatics don't
take long over a drop like that."
She looked at him doubtfully for a moment; then gave him what he
ordered, saying, as she passed him the glasses:
"Two shillings, please."
As again he emptied one into the other he nodded to Rodney.
"Pay her; I've no money--lunatics never have."
Rodney drank what was in his glass, placed a florin on the counter,
and left the place without a word. Hardly had he reached the door when
he found the little man again at his side. He commenced pacing up and
down the dimly lit platform; the little man paced also, two of his
short steps being the equivalent of one of Rodney's strides. He asked
himself if he could do nothing to shake the fellow off; with his usual
singular intuition the other replied to his unspoken thought.
"Not nice, being in the company of one who knows as much as I do?
Perhaps not; yet I don't see why. I'm incapable of giving evidence; if
I weren't I wouldn't say a word to spoil the fun; I am as good as a
dead man. You'll have a dead man for constant companion--why not me?"
Again he gave vent to the snigger which so jarred on the young man's
nerves. When the train entered the station they were still pacing to
and fro; Rodney not having yet uttered a single word. The little man
followed him into the empty first-class compartment which he had
selected, saying as he drew the door to behind him:
"Isn't it confiding of me to trust myself alone in a carriage with
you--after what has happened? But I am not in the least afraid. I am
sure you won't care to repeat your experiment to-night. And I shall
find it so amusing to sit and watch you, and see what is passing
through your mind; because, do you know, it will all be just as plain
to me as if you said everything aloud."
While crediting the stranger with unusual perceptive powers, Rodney
doubted if in his assertion he did not go too far. If he had the
dimmest insight into the tangled network of thought with which the
young man's brain was filled, then he was a marvel indeed. Elmore,
leaning back in his seat, remained perfectly still, with his face
towards the window, to all outward seeming as oblivious of the other's
presence and occasional remarks as if he were not there. When they
reached Croydon a person approached the carriage window whom the
stranger plainly recognised; a pleasant-faced, brown-skinned and
brown-haired young man with a slight moustache, with something in his
bearing and expression which suggested reserve. Coming into the
carriage, he said to the stranger, as he sat beside him, half
smilingly, half chidingly:
"So it is you, is it? I hope you've enjoyed your little trip."
The stranger seemed to regard his coming with an air of not altogether
pleased surprise.
"You're a most extraordinary man."
The other replied:
"One has to be a little that way if one is responsible for you."
The new-comer's good-humoured curtness seemed to disturb the
stranger's equilibrium.
"Responsible for me, indeed! Upon my word, you are the most
extraordinary man."
In his own fashion the stranger introduced the new-comer to Rodney.
"This is Dr. Emmett, my medical attendant. I left him behind me in
Brighton because I am sick and tired of his society; yet here he is at
Croydon before I am. How he does these things I do not understand.
He's a most extraordinary man."
Then, also after his own fashion, he made Rodney known to the
new-comer.
"Emmett, this is a valued friend of mine, whom I have met for the
first time to-night. I know all about him, except his voice; and, do
you know, he's never spoken once."
Rodney, observing the new-comer, perceived, from something which was
in the glance he gave him in exchange for his, that the position had
altered. Rising, he moved out of the carriage, still without a word.
The stranger made as if to follow him, but the doctor put out a
detaining hand. The train started just as Rodney, having gained the
platform, was closing the door. The last he saw of the interior of the
compartment was that the stranger seemed to be warmly expostulating
with his medical attendant. At Redhill Rodney had got into the front
part of the train--which was for London Bridge--because he felt that
between the City and Notting Hill he might have an opportunity of
shaking the stranger off. Now, as the London Bridge coaches glided out
of the station, he passed to the Victoria half of the train, which
awaited an engine, lower down the platform. The doctor's fortuitous
arrival on the scene had saved him, at least temporarily, from what
might have been a serious predicament.