The Trail of Fear (18 page)

Outside Northam they halted for some while. Rezaire tried to see whereabouts he was, whether the train was going on to the Bournemouth line on which was Beaulieu Road Station, or whether he would be carried down the docks, which he did not want at all. But two men, shunters probably, came and stood in conversation just by his car so that he dared not move.

Then the train went on again, clattering over points, still between houses, with the roar of Southampton's evening traffic all about it.

They had not turned off to the docks. Southampton West Station loomed up out of the oncoming night and as they passed slowly through it, Rezaire managed to look out. The lighted platform was crowded with people. He wondered whether any of them knew what was in the air. Suddenly he gave a start and crouched down once more in the obscurity of the car. For there at the end of the platform standing in the center of a little group was the short square-shouldered man with the clipped moustache who had been the chief of those on his track in London, the man he knew as Detective Inspector Harrison. So they were in touch with him once more as he had feared. They had guessed—and it could not really have been difficult—that the mysterious and desperate car driver on the Southampton Road was the wanted man of the night before in London. Even as he looked the short man turned to the station-master at his elbow and spoke rapidly—indicating the passing freight train. Rezaire guessed quite well that they were now wondering whether he might not be concealed on it.

Just outside the station they came to a halt and ahead the engine whistled angrily. Rezaire sat on the floor of the car thinking. He did not consider that the train had been stopped on purpose, but there was no doubt that Harrison was suspicious. The question was: how suspicious and what would he do? He might have the train definitely held up at the next station, or now that it had stopped he might come along with men and search it. He got to his feet and peered over the top. He could see no one, but perhaps he had better be prepared to make a swift get-away if necessary. He swung quickly over the side and down on to the buffers. He was fairly well concealed there and could certainly, if he heard people coming, have a clear run into the darkness. For by now the dusk had definitely turned to night and with the departure of daylight Rezaire's spirits had once more risen. He sat on the buffers peering down the line at the lighted platforms of the station with its crowd of people. Directly ahead of him alongside the railway was the sea—or rather the mud-flats of Southampton Water—the sea which at the further edge lapped the shores of France.

A sudden whisper from somewhere below made him jump, and he gathered himself up instantly prepared to spring. But it was only Dixon who, getting out from his place of concealment a little way back, had crawled up under the train.

“You startled me,” said Rezaire angrily.

“Sorry,” returned Dixon. “But you startled me. I thought you were a porter or something sitting there on the buffers. I bin watching your legs some time.”

“Has anyone seen you?”

“No one.”

“Not even when we got on?”

“No. I got right inside a car straightway.”

“Do you know the 'tecs are here?”

“Here? Where?”

“On that platform back yonder.”

“Gummy! Have they spotted us?”

“We shouldn't be here if they had,” retorted Rezaire tersely. “But they may come along, because I saw them talking about this train… We must stick to these cars because otherwise we've no way of getting where we want… What's that?” he broke off sharply.

They listened for a minute; then Rezaire quickly slipped to the ground. From the rear of the train voices were heard and the flashing of lanterns could be seen. It looked as though Harrison was taking advantage of the halt of the train to come up on either side and search it. Again the engine whistled somewhere ahead. If only it would go on, as it might quite well do any minute.

“Quick! Get underneath!” muttered Rezaire, and in a moment they had scrambled down between the buffers and under the car. He did not know who the men were, but he was taking no risks. Then he began to make his way on hands and knees along the track underneath the train, away from the direction in which the voices came.

They made a certain distance this way, but always the party gained on them. They could see the light flashing on the rims of the wheels. Then just as Rezaire had determined to get up and make a dash for it, there was another whistle from the front, and with a jerk and rattle the train started off once more.

With a sudden curse Dixon, who was a little to one side, flung himself clear over the rail and outside the train. Rezaire, who had hesitated for a moment, was too late, and the next minute he dared not attempt it. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. The wheels were moving on slowly but inexorably on either side; he could not now get out that way; and yet he must not get left behind, for this train was his one hope of salvation. His only chance was to get up as he had come, in between two cars even while they moved—and his very soul shrank at the risk.

The wheels moved past less slowly; beyond them he saw Dixon get to his feet and jump into the car above him. One opening passed even as he crouched in fear-stricken hesitation. In another second it would be too late, for the train would be going too fast for him to attempt it, and he would be left behind on the line, unconcealed.

With a little gasp he gathered himself for the effort, beginning to crawl forward as fast as he could with the train. He saw the rear wheels of the truck pass, got half to his feet, head turned to side to look for the gap, saw it, and got upright, scrambling forward as he did so in order to keep within the opening; received a bang on the elbow from a trailing chain, a heavy blow on the back from the car behind; and the next moment was running along between the buffers as the train gathered speed, looking for a way to pull himself up. One hand grasped a brake connection, the other a chain; he gave a jump and a heave, missed his footing, was dragged for a short distance, pulled himself up with the strength of despair, just missing the grinding buffers, and the next moment was seated on the end of the car bruised but safe.

Before he had time to move further, a sudden shout rang out loud in his ears. He looked round, and for a brief instant found himself staring into the face of a man—a brakeman or signalman—standing by the track with a lantern.

The man waved, shouted again angrily, and then was swallowed up in the darkness.

The train rattled on westward.

CHAPTER XIX

DISCOVERY

For a moment longer Rezaire crouched there in doubt as to what was best to do. In the end, despite the fact that he had been seen, he determined to risk pursuit and stay where he was, as long as possible; for at any rate the train was bearing him in the right direction.

He climbed along the side of the car he was on and got inside the one in front, where he found Dixon. To him he explained what had happened and Dixon too agreed that the best course was to stay with the train.

They sat in the bottom of the car watching the night sky overhead, streaked with the rushing clouds of smoke. The rattle of the train was in their ears; the smell of the smoke mingling with that of the mud-flats along which the line ran filled their nostrils. Ahead lay Beaulieu and the motor launch. Rezaire glanced at his watch. It was only about half-past seven; he still had three and a half hours.

They went on without stopping. They had already passed two stations and were just leaving a third behind them—Totton and Eling had been the names on the platform—when once more the familiar jerking rattle of the buffers passed like rifle fire down the line of cars, as the train slowed down. This time Rezaire was instantly on the alert. Now that he had been seen, he was suspicious of everything. Even allowing a certain time for the man who had seen him to tell others about it, there were several things that Harrison could have already done, from telephoning down the line to stop the train to driving on himself along the road—for almost certainly the London detectives had a car.

With a warning whisper to Dixon he was over the edge and down in his familiar position on the buffers, where he was still on the train and could see what was going on, yet could leave it at an instant's notice.

After a minute, with a jerky bump the engine suddenly woke up to life again, but this time the long line of trucks ran slowly backward.

“What are they doing that for?” asked Dixon at his side.

“Don't know,” replied Rezaire apprehensively, eyes on the station they had passed, to which they now seemed about to return.

The cars curved off to one side, rattled over switches.

“Why, we're back on a side line now.”

“It's the 'tecs. They've got onto us. They've had this train side-tracked in order to search it. Look!”

Against the lights of the station could be seen a little cluster of men emerging from the near end of the platform, coming toward them.

“How've they got here?”

“Motor car. We've been going slowly.” Rezaire spoke absently, for his brain was busy with other matters. The train was backing into some sort of a yard on the up side of the track under the shadow of a warehouse. He had the feeling that there were other men concealed about him somewhere in the darkness. He was certain that Harrison would have laid his plans well, would not have run the risk of their getting off at one end, while he searched the other. He lowered himself to a sitting position on the buffers.

“Come on,” he whispered to Dixon and dropped off to one side into the darkness. “We've got to get away from here. They're backing it into a siding where they've got men posted.”

They stood for a moment, undecided, on the rail, watching the dark mass of the train slide past. Then suddenly they heard footsteps close by them in the darkness. Someone on the track was coming up in their direction. They could not see who it was; for the party that had come from the station had split up and the night seemed full of questing hostile figures. To leave the friendly shelter of the train now seemed to mean instant discovery, yet the long line of care was slipping past. The pulsing mass of the engine came nearer with its plume of smoke, red from the fire box, the driver and fire-man leaning out of their cab. There was only one thing to do as Rezaire saw it. He swung himself up again into a car, followed by Dixon. They could not as yet leave the train without being discovered,—and yet to stay on… Rezaire suddenly felt very like a rat in a trap. Every way of escape seemed barred and the best thing to do was to wait and take the first chance that came. Inside the car they crouched down. It had held coal and there were still several fragments lying about on the bottom.

Even as they clambered in, the train came to a standstill on the siding. The engine let out a blast of steam and was silent. There was a silence all about them as though the whole world were watching and yet the silence was alive. A stone crunched somewhere under foot, a whisper came to their ears, something clanged against a car, they heard a man talking in low tones to the driver of the engine a little way ahead. Rezaire and Dixon crouched there amongst the loose coal not daring to move or speak for fear of discovery.

Then slowly out of the night there crept a new noise far away beyond the station in the direction of Southampton. For a moment they listened uncomprehendingly; then suddenly Rezaire sat up. It was the roar of an approaching train and to his quick wits it spelt a possible way out. Should it be a passenger train, it would stop at this station; and if only they could get on undetected, as it started up again, they might yet get to Beaulieu Road Station in safety.

The roar grew louder in the still evening air and then he heard the steam shut off as it slowed down.

It was going to stop after all. At the same time another noise much nearer crept into Rezaire's consciousness. Someone was just outside their car, attempting to climb silently up the side. His brain became suddenly abnormally alert, judging the two sounds which to him meant danger or safety, the stealthy enemy and the passenger train which was coming to a standstill, the engine not twenty yards away. He felt for his automatic, grasped it, then relinquished it in favor of a big lump of coal on which his fingers had closed. Dimly against the light he saw a hand come up over the top and grip the side of the car, heard the faintest of whispers from the men outside. At the same moment his brain was subconsciously listening to the shout of porters, the opening and shutting of doors in the station along the line. In another moment the other train would be off again and his chance would have come. It would pass them quite slowly. Could he board it, it would mean safety.

There was a pause that seemed like eternity—then the guard's whistle blew. The puffing of the engine recommenced, drowning the other faint but nearer sounds. Suddenly against the light he saw the silhouette of a face over the edge of the car. Raising the lump of coal which he held in his hand, with all his force he flung it at the head. There was a crash, a smothered cry, a shout from below; he had a momentary impression of a hand clutching wildly against the sky.

Disregarding further concealment he leaped to his feet, with a shout to Dixon, and flung himself over the side nearest the passing train, even as men swarmed into the car from the other side. He heard a scuffle behind, someone fired a shot, but he was over. He fell hard on top of a man, struggled for a moment, broke away and ran for the passing train.

The lighted carriages were sliding past and with an effort he jumped, catching at a door handle. The train was not going very fast and he found himself safely on the footboard. Around him whistles shrilled and he saw the engine driver peering back. Glancing behind he saw a dim figure struggle for a moment on the edge of the car, then leap to the ground. It was Dixon, and now he too was running hard for the train, jumped up also, fell, was dragged a little, scrambled up desperately once more, and got into a carriage. In the light from the door, as he got in, Rezaire could see blood running from his head.