Sawn Off Part 45

At last, after wearying himself by trying to bring reason to bear, the cab reached the comparative freedom of London Bridge; and then he began to think of the hour, and wondered whether there would be a train.

"Perhaps I shall be in time," he thought, as he sprang out of the cab, and, paying the fare, ran up to the doors, where a porter was standing.

"You should have gone to the other gate, sir," said the man sharply.

"No, no," he replied hastily. "Main line. I want Hastings."

"Last train for there was at 8:45, sir."

"What time is it now?" he gasped.

"Ten fifty-five, sir."

"But--but is there nothing more to-night--say, to take me part of the way?" he exclaimed, for he was mad with the desire to be moving.

"No main line train to-night, sir. Nothing till six in the morning."

"How long would it take to get a special ready?"

"Oh, not very long, sir. I dessay they'd get you off in half an hour.

Costs a deal, sir--'bout a pound a mile."

"Where is the superintendent?"

"This way, sir," said the man; and, following him, he was taken to the official's house, just in time to catch him before he retired for the night.

"I want a special train--engine and carriage--down to Hastings immediately," said Tom, hardly able to speak for agitation.

The superintendent looked at him curiously, as if he doubted his sanity.

"It's only excitement--trouble. It is a case of life and death. A dear young friend."

"All right, sir," the superintendent said quickly. "I see," and there was a look of sympathy in his eyes. "But I am only a servant of the company. The charge for a special train is high."

"If it is a thousand pounds, man," cried Tom, "I must have it."

"It won't be that, sir," was the reply; "nor yet a hundred." Then naming a sum, it was hastily placed in his hand, and the superintendent left.

He was back directly, and Tom accompanied him then to the telegraph office, where he gave certain instructions, and the clerk began clicking the instruments in his cabinet very forcibly.

"Sending word on for a clear line," said the superintendent. "Warning for the special."

"How long will they be?" asked Tom.

"What, with the special? Oh, not long. There was an engine with steam nearly up. But you had better take some refreshment before you go. The place is closed, but come to my room."

"I could not touch anything."

"But you have no wrapper or rug," said the superintendent.

"No, I came in a great hurry."

"You must let me lend them to you," continued the superintendent; "and, excuse me, you have given me all your money. You had better keep the gold; you are sure to want some change."

He handed him back the cash, and Tom took it mechanically.

"I cannot thank you now," he said, in a choking voice. "Some day I may."

"I hope so, sir," said the superintendent cheerily; "and that the young lady will come and thank me too."

"Heaven grant she may!" Tom said, with quivering lip; and he turned away to hide his emotion, while the superintendent turned back to his office, leaving Tom walking up and down the platform, where the lamps quivered in the night breeze, and the whole place looked ghostly, dim, and cold.

Away to the side the station was bright and busy, for from there started the local traffic; and trains, with people from the theatres and places of amus.e.m.e.nt, left from time to time for the various suburban villages of the south-east of London; but where he stood all was shadowy, and in keeping with his terrible journey.

"There, sir--slip that on," said the superintendent. "Here's a rug, too, and my flask, with some brandy and biscuits in one of the pockets of the ulster. You'll find it cold, and you'll turn faint when you get on your journey. Here she comes."

There was a sharp whistle, and Tom could see the lights of an engine pa.s.sing out of a shed, to run a little distance down the line, then back on to another, and come smoothly along to where they stood--hissing, glowing, and bright.

Tom saw at a glance that there was only an engine, tender, one carriage, and the guard's break; and, turning to the superintendent, "Can I ride on the engine with the driver?" he asked.

"No. In with you."

The superintendent opened the door of the saloon carriage, and shut him in. Then Tom heard him give a few quick, decisive orders to the guard, there was another sharp whistle, he waved his hand from the window, and the superintendent leaped on to the step:

"Tell them to go as fast as possible," shouted Tom, as the train was gliding past the platform.

"I have," the superintendent said quickly. "Hope she'll be better.

Good night."

As he spoke he leaped off at the end of the platform, and, shrieking and snorting, the little special went rather slowly along, past hissing goods engines and long black-looking trains, such as might be the funeral processions of an army. Lights flashed here and there, and far to right and left shone the glow of great London; while the big illuminated clock of the Parliament Houses loomed out of the darkness like a dull, fog-dimmed moon.

"They are crawling!" Tom exclaimed, as he started up to look out from the window. But, as he did so, the wind was already beginning to whistle more quickly by his ears: they were clear of obstructions, and speed was getting up rapidly. There was the quick, throbbing beat, a crash as they pa.s.sed under bridge after bridge, and soon after, as the engine gave a weird scream, they seemed to skim through a long station, whose row of pendant lights ran together like closely strung golden beads; and then, as Tom sank back in his seat, he felt the carriage begin to vibrate from side to side, and he knew that the telegraph had flashed its message, that the line was clear, and that, ever increasing in speed, they were off and away through the black darkness of the night--the best doctor in London speeding to the patient dying to hear his words.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A RIDE BY NIGHT.

With the speed of the special train the excitement seemed to increase; but, for a time, Tom's attention was taken up by the stations they pa.s.sed, and he tried hard to recall their names, referring at the same moment that they pa.s.sed through to his watch, so as to endeavour to calculate the speed at which they ran.

But soon they were going so fast that he ceased to hold his watch up to the thick gla.s.s lamp in the roof, and he missed count of the places, unable to tell one from the other, seeing merely a streak of light directly after the warning shriek of the engine had told of their coming. And now, as he threw himself back and began to think once more of his trouble, the roar and beat of the engine resolved itself into the words that had troubled him before; and, with feelings of anguish that he could not express, he sat listening to the reiteration--"In the midst of life we are in death,"--"In the midst of life we are in death!"--and, with a groan of anguish, he bent down and wept like a child.

But for the relief those tears afforded his throbbing brain, he would soon have been suffering from fever. The relief was but short, though, and he rose to gaze out of the window at the thick gloom. Then, removing his hat, he lowered the gla.s.s and leaned out, letting the cold night air blow upon his heated face as the train rushed on.

All was black darkness, save the glow shed by the rus.h.i.+ng train; and he could make out nothing but that they were das.h.i.+ng on at a frightful pace, seeming to tear up the very earth as they thundered along. Once or twice speed was slackened, with the engine whistle sounding loudly; and, looking out, he could see far ahead a red point of light, which, as they neared it, changed into a green, when, with a triumphant shriek, the special glided on once more, and they swept by a station and a hissing engine attached to some long goods train, whose guard stood by with a lantern in his hand, fresh from the operation of shunting to allow them to pa.s.s.

"Faster, faster!" Tom began repeating to himself, as, in spite of his efforts to master the fancy, he kept hearing the words into which the noise of the train resolved itself; though, as he leaned out again, he felt a sensation of joy, for he was being borne nearer and nearer to where his darling lay.

Then he would walk to and fro in the narrow s.p.a.ce that formed the saloon carriage, the difficulty of preserving his balance taking up some of his attention, and relieving his mind from its dreadful strain. But it always came back to his throwing himself back on a seat, to listen to those dreadful words; and at such times he was for ever seeing the open grave and the funeral procession, and in a despair that was almost maddening he, told himself that by his folly he had dashed away the cup of happiness from his lips, and that if Jessie died he would be little better than a murderer.