Bainbridge touched up the mare, she bounded forward, and Lucy
disappeared into the cottage with her mother.
The next moment we drew up at the inn where the Inspector was waiting,
and soon afterwards were bowling along between the high banks of the
country lanes to the tunnel. It was a cold, still afternoon; the air was
wonderfully keen, for a sharp frost had held the countryside in its grip
for the last two days. The sun was just tipping the hills to westward
when the trap pulled up at the top of the cutting. We hastily alighted,
and the Inspector and I bade Bainbridge good-bye. He said that he only
wished that he could stay with us for the night, assured us that little
sleep would visit him, and that he would be back at the cutting at an
early hour on the following morning; then the noise of his horse's feet
was heard fainter and fainter as he drove back over the frost-bound
roads. The Inspector and I ran along the little path to the wicket-gate
in the fence, stamping our feet on the hard ground to restore
circulation after our cold drive. The next moment we were looking down
upon the scene of the mysterious deaths, and a weird and lonely place it
looked. The tunnel was at one end of the rock cutting, the sides of
which ran sheer down to the line for over a hundred and fifty feet.
Above the tunnel's mouth the hills rose one upon the other. A more
dreary place it would have been difficult to imagine. From a little
clump of pines a delicate film of blue smoke rose straight up on the
still air. This came from the chimney of the signal-box.
As we started to descend the precipitous path the Inspector sang out a
cheery "Hullo!" The man on duty in the box immediately answered. His
voice echoed and reverberated down the cutting, and the next moment he
appeared at the door of the box. He told us that he would be with us
immediately; but we called back to him to stay where he was, and the
next instant the Inspector and I entered the box.
"The first thing to do," said Henderson the Inspector, "is to send a
message down the line to announce our arrival."
This he did, and in a few moments a crawling goods train came panting up
the cutting. After signalling her through we descended the wooden flight
of steps which led from the box down to the line and walked along the
metals towards the tunnel till we stood on the spot where poor Davidson
had been found dead that morning. I examined the ground and all around
it most carefully. Everything tallied exactly with the description I had
received. There could be no possible way of approaching the spot except
by going along the line, as the rocky sides of the cutting were
inaccessible.
"It is a most extraordinary thing, sir," said the signalman whom we had
come to relieve. "Davidson had neither mark nor sign on him--there he
lay stone dead and cold, and not a bruise nowhere; but Pritchard had an
awful wound at the back of the head. They said he got it by climbing the
rocks--here, you can see the marks for yourself, sir. But now, is it
likely that Pritchard would try to climb rocks like these, so steep as
they are?"
"Certainly not," I replied.
"Then how do you account for the wound, sir?" asked the man with an
anxious face.
"I cannot tell you at present," I answered.
"And you and Inspector Henderson are going to spend the night in the
signal-box?"
"Yes."
A horrified expression crept over the signalman's face.
"God preserve you both," he said; "I wouldn't do it--not for fifty
pounds. It's not the first time I have heard tell that Felwyn Tunnel is
haunted. But, there, I won't say any more about that. It's a black
business, and has given trouble enough. There's poor Wynne, the same
thing as convicted of the murder of Pritchard; but now they say that
Davidson's death will clear him. Davidson was as good a fellow as you
would come across this side of the country; but for the matter of that,
so was Pritchard. The whole thing is terrible--it upsets one, that it
do, sir."
"I don't wonder at your feelings," I answered; "but now, see here, I
want to make a most careful examination of everything. One of the
theories is that Wynne crept down this rocky side and fractured
Pritchard's skull. I believe such a feat to be impossible. On examining
these rocks I see that a man might climb up the side of the tunnel as
far as from eight to ten feet, utilising the sharp projections of rock
for the purpose; but it would be out of the question for any man to come
down the cutting. No; the only way Wynne could have approached Pritchard
was by the line itself. But, after all, the real thing to discover is
this," I continued: "what killed Davidson? Whatever caused his death is,
beyond doubt, equally responsible for Pritchard's. I am now going into
the tunnel."
Inspector Henderson went in with me. The place struck damp and chill.
The walls were covered with green, evil-smelling fungi, and through the
brickwork the moisture was oozing and had trickled down in long lines to
the ground. Before us was nothing but dense darkness.
When we re-appeared the signalman was lighting the red lamp on the post,
which stood about five feet from the ground just above the entrance to
the tunnel.
"Is there plenty of oil?" asked the Inspector.
"Yes, sir, plenty," replied the man. "Is there anything more I can do
for either of you gentlemen?" he asked, pausing, and evidently dying to
be off.
"Nothing," answered Henderson; "I will wish you good-evening."
"Good-evening to you both," said the man. He made his way quickly up the
path and was soon lost to sight.
Henderson and I then returned to the signal-box.
By this time it was nearly dark.
"How many trains pass in the night?" I asked of the Inspector.
"There's the 10.20 down express," he said, "it will pass here at about
10.40; then there's the 11.45 up, and then not another train till the
6.30 local to-morrow morning. We shan't have a very lively time," he
added.
I approached the fire and bent over it, holding out my hands to try and
get some warmth into them.
"It will take a good deal to persuade me to go down to the tunnel,
whatever I may see there," said the man. "I don't think, Mr. Bell, I am
a coward in any sense of the word, but there's something very uncanny
about this place, right away from the rest of the world. I don't wonder
one often hears of signalmen going mad in some of these lonely boxes.
Have you any theory to account for these deaths, sir?"
"None at present," I replied.
"This second death puts the idea of Pritchard being murdered quite out
of court," he continued.
"I am sure of it," I answered.
"And so am I, and that's one comfort," continued Henderson. "That poor
girl, Lucy Ray, although she was to be blamed for her conduct, is much
to be pitied now; and as to poor Wynne himself, he protests his
innocence through thick and thin. He was a wild fellow, but not the sort
to take the life of a fellow-creature. I saw the doctor this afternoon
while I was waiting for you at the inn, Mr. Bell, and also the police
sergeant. They both say they do not know what Davidson died of. There
was not the least sign of violence on the body."
"Well, I am as puzzled as the rest of you," I said. "I have one or two
theories in my mind, but none of them will quite fit the situation."
The night was piercingly cold, and, although there was not a breath of
wind, the keen and frosty air penetrated into the lonely signal-box. We
spoke little, and both of us were doubtless absorbed by our own thoughts
and speculations. As to Henderson, he looked distinctly uncomfortable,
and I cannot say that my own feelings were too pleasant. Never had I
been given a tougher problem to solve, and never had I been so utterly
at my wits' end for a solution.
Now and then the Inspector got up and went to the telegraph instrument,
which intermittently clicked away in its box. As he did so he made some
casual remark and then sat down again. After the 10.40 had gone through,
there followed a period of silence which seemed almost oppressive. All
at once the stillness was broken by the whirr of the electric bell,
which sounded so sharply in our ears that we both started. Henderson
rose.
"That's the 11.45 coming," he said, and, going over to the three long
levers, he pulled two of them down with a loud clang. The next moment,
with a rush and a scream, the express tore down the cutting, the
carriage lights streamed past in a rapid flash, the ground trembled, a
few sparks from the engine whirled up into the darkness, and the train
plunged into the tunnel.
"And now," said Henderson, as he pushed back the levers, "not another
train till daylight. My word, it is cold!"
It was intensely so. I piled some more wood on the fire and, turning up
the collar of my heavy ulster, sat down at one end of the bench and
leant my back against the wall. Henderson did likewise; we were neither
of us inclined to speak. As a rule, whenever I have any night work to
do, I am never troubled with sleepiness, but on this occasion I felt
unaccountably drowsy. I soon perceived that Henderson was in the same
condition.
"Are you sleepy?" I asked of him.
"Dead with it, sir," was his answer; "but there's no fear, I won't drop
off."
I got up and went to the window of the box. I felt certain that if I sat
still any longer I should be in a sound sleep. This would never do.
Already it was becoming a matter of torture to keep my eyes open. I
began to pace up and down; I opened the door of the box and went out on
the little platform.
"What's the matter, sir?" inquired Henderson, jumping up with a start.
"I cannot keep awake," I said.
"Nor can I," he answered, "and yet I have spent nights and nights of my
life in signal-boxes and never was the least bit drowsy; perhaps it's
the cold."
"Perhaps it is," I said; "but I have been out on as freezing nights
before, and----"
The man did not reply; he had sat down again; his head was nodding.
I was just about to go up to him and shake him, when it suddenly
occurred to me that I might as well let him have his sleep out. I soon
heard him snoring, and he presently fell forward in a heap on the floor.
By dint of walking up and down, I managed to keep from dropping off
myself, and in torture which I shall never be able to describe, the
night wore itself away. At last, towards morning, I awoke Henderson.
"You have had a good nap," I said; "but never mind, I have been on guard
and nothing has occurred."
"Good God! have I been asleep?" cried the man.
"Sound," I answered.
"Well, I never felt anything like it," he replied. "Don't you find the
air very close, sir?"
"No," I said; "it is as fresh as possible; it must be the cold."
"I'll just go and have a look at the light at the tunnel," said the man;
"it will rouse me."
He went on to the little platform, whilst I bent over the fire and began
to build it up. Presently he returned with a scared look on his face. I
could see by the light of the oil lamp which hung on the wall that he
was trembling.
"Mr. Bell," he said, "I believe there is somebody or something down at
the mouth of the tunnel now." As he spoke he clutched me by the arm. "Go
and look," he said; "whoever it is, it has put out the light."
"Put out the light?" I cried. "Why, what's the time?"
Henderson pulled out his watch.
"Thank goodness, most of the night is gone," he said; "I didn't know it
was so late, it is half-past five."
"Then the local is not due for an hour yet?" I said.
"No; but who should put out the light?" cried Henderson.
I went to the door, flung it open, and looked out. The dim outline of
the tunnel was just visible looming through the darkness, but the red
light was out.
"What the dickens does it mean, sir?" gasped the Inspector. "I know the
lamp had plenty of oil in it. Can there be any one standing in front of
it, do you think?"
We waited and watched for a few moments, but nothing stirred.
"Come along," I said, "let us go down together and see what it is."
"I don't believe I can do it, sir; I really don't!"
"Nonsense," I cried. "I shall go down alone if you won't accompany me.
Just hand me my stick, will you?"
"For God's sake, be careful, Mr. Bell. Don't go down, whatever you do. I
expect this is what happened before, and the poor fellows went down to
see what it was and died there. There's some devilry at work, that's my
belief."
"That is as it may be," I answered shortly; "but we certainly shall not
find out by stopping here. My business is to get to the bottom of this,
and I am going to do it. That there is danger of some sort, I have very
little doubt; but danger or not, I am going down."
"If you'll be warned by me, sir, you'll just stay quietly here."
"I must go down and see the matter out," was my answer. "Now listen to
me, Henderson. I see that you are alarmed, and I don't wonder. Just stay
quietly where you are and watch, but if I call come at once. Don't delay
a single instant. Remember I am putting my life into your hands. If I
call 'Come,' just come to me as quick as you can, for I may want help.
Give me that lantern."
He unhitched it from the wall, and taking it from him, I walked
cautiously down the steps on to the line. I still felt curiously,
unaccountably drowsy and heavy. I wondered at this, for the moment was
such a critical one as to make almost any man wide awake. Holding the
lamp high above my head, I walked rapidly along the line. I hardly knew
what I expected to find. Cautiously along the metals I made my way,
peering right and left until I was close to the fatal spot where the
bodies had been found. An uncontrollable shudder passed over me. The
next moment, to my horror, without the slightest warning, the light I
was carrying went out, leaving me in total darkness. I started back, and
stumbling against one of the loose boulders reeled against the wall and
nearly fell. What was the matter with me? I could hardly stand. I felt
giddy and faint, and a horrible sensation of great tightness seized me
across the chest. A loud ringing noise sounded in my ears. Struggling
madly for breath, and with the fear of impending death upon me, I turned
and tried to run from a danger I could neither understand nor grapple
with. But before I had taken two steps my legs gave way from under me,
and uttering a loud cry I fell insensible to the ground.
* * * * *
Out of an oblivion which, for all I knew, might have lasted for moments
or centuries, a dawning consciousness came to me. I knew that I was
lying on hard ground; that I was absolutely incapable of realising, nor
had I the slightest inclination to discover, where I was. All I wanted
was to lie quite still and undisturbed. Presently I opened my eyes.
Some one was bending over me and looking into my face.
"Thank God, he is not dead," I heard in whispered tones. Then, with a
flash, memory returned to me.
"What has happened?" I asked.
"You may well ask that, sir," said the Inspector gravely. "It has been
touch and go with you for the last quarter of an hour; and a near thing
for me too."
I sat up and looked around me. Daylight was just beginning to break, and
I saw that we were at the bottom of the steps that led up to the
signal-box. My teeth were chattering with the cold and I was shivering
like a man with ague.
"I am better now," I said; "just give me your hand."
I took his arm, and holding the rail with the other hand staggered up
into the box and sat down on the bench.
"Yes, it has been a near shave," I said; "and a big price to pay for
solving a mystery."
"Do you mean to say you know what it is?" asked Henderson eagerly.
"Yes," I answered, "I think I know now; but first tell me how long was I
unconscious?"
"A good bit over half an hour, sir, I should think. As soon as I heard
you call out I ran down as you told me, but before I got to you I nearly
fainted. I never had such a horrible sensation in my life. I felt as
weak as a baby, but I just managed to seize you by the arms and drag you
along the line to the steps, and that was about all I could do."
"Well, I owe you my life," I said; "just hand me that brandy flask, I
shall be the better for some of its contents."
I took a long pull. Just as I was laying the flask down Henderson
started from my side.
"There," he cried, "the 6.30 is coming." The electric bell at the
instrument suddenly began to ring. "Ought I to let her go through, sir?"
he inquired.
"Certainly," I answered. "That is exactly what we want. Oh, she will be
all right."
"No danger to her, sir?"
"None, none; let her go through."
He pulled the lever and the next moment the train tore through the
cutting.
"Now I think it will be safe to go down again," I said. "I believe I
shall be able to get to the bottom of this business."
Henderson stared at me aghast.
"Do you mean that you are going down again to the tunnel?" he gasped.
"Yes," I said; "give me those matches. You had better come too. I don't
think there will be much danger now; and there is daylight, so we can
see what we are about."
The man was very loth to obey me, but at last I managed to persuade him.
We went down the line, walking slowly, and at this moment we both felt
our courage revived by a broad and cheerful ray of sunshine.
"We must advance cautiously," I said, "and be ready to run back at a
moment's notice."
"God knows, sir, I think we are running a great risk," panted poor
Henderson; "and if that devil or whatever else it is should happen to be
about--why, daylight or no daylight----"
"Nonsense! man," I interrupted; "if we are careful, no harm will happen
to us now. Ah! and here we are!" We had reached the spot where I had
fallen. "Just give me a match, Henderson."
He did so, and I immediately lit the lamp. Opening the glass of the
lamp, I held it close to the ground and passed it to and fro. Suddenly
the flame went out.
"Don't you understand now?" I said, looking up at the Inspector.
"No, I don't, sir," he replied with a bewildered expression.
Suddenly, before I could make an explanation, we both heard shouts from
the top of the cutting, and looking up I saw Bainbridge hurrying down
the path. He had come in the dog-cart to fetch us.
"Here's the mystery," I cried as he rushed up to us, "and a deadlier
scheme of Dame Nature's to frighten and murder poor humanity I have
never seen."
As I spoke I lit the lamp again and held it just above a tiny fissure in
the rock. It was at once extinguished.
"What is it?" said Bainbridge, panting with excitement.
"Something that nearly finished _me_," I replied. "Why, this is a
natural escape of choke damp. Carbonic acid gas--the deadliest gas
imaginable, because it gives no warning of its presence, and it has no
smell. It must have collected here during the hours of the night when no
train was passing, and gradually rising put out the signal light. The
constant rushing of the trains through the cutting all day would
temporarily disperse it."
As I made this explanation Bainbridge stood like one electrified, while
a curious expression of mingled relief and horror swept over Henderson's
face.
"An escape of carbonic acid gas is not an uncommon phenomenon in
volcanic districts," I continued, "as I take this to be; but it is odd
what should have started it. It has sometimes been known to follow
earthquake shocks, when there is a profound disturbance of the deep
strata."
"It is strange that you should have said that," said Bainbridge, when he
could find his voice.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, that about the earthquake. Don't you remember, Henderson," he
added, turning to the Inspector, "we had felt a slight shock all over
South Wales about three weeks back?"
"Then that, I think, explains it," I said. "It is evident that Pritchard
really did climb the rocks in a frantic attempt to escape from the gas
and fell back on to these boulders. The other man was cut down at once,
before he had time to fly."
"But what is to happen now?" asked Bainbridge. "Will it go on for ever?
How are we to stop it?"
"The fissure ought to be drenched with lime water, and then filled up;
but all really depends on what is the size of the supply and also the
depth. It is an extremely heavy gas, and would lie at the bottom of a
cutting like water. I think there is more here just now than is good for
us," I added.
"But how," continued Bainbridge, as we moved a few steps from the fatal
spot, "do you account for the interval between the first death and the
second?"
"The escape must have been intermittent. If wind blew down the cutting,
as probably was the case before this frost set in, it would keep the gas
so diluted that its effects would not be noticed. There was enough down
here this morning, before that train came through, to poison an army.
Indeed, if it had not been for Henderson's promptitude, there would have
been another inquest--on myself."