stantly withdrawn, but it had done a useful work in convincing Beaumanoir that he was really an object of interest in that quarter, and not to Marker alone.
“I wish they would do something and end this beastly suspense,” the hunted man muttered to himself as the train moved on once more; “though, for the matter of that, they can’t do anything till I get out at Tarrant Road—unless they openly come to the door and shoot me at one of the few remaining stoppages.”
But he was soon to learn that stations were not to be the only stopping-places for the 8.45 that night. It had come to a steep gradient, up which it was plodding laboriously, when suddenly there was a bumping thud that hurled Beaumanoir on to the opposite seat; the wheels screeched on the metals as if in agony; a tremor as of impending dissolution quivered through the framework of the carriage, and the train jerked to a standstill.
Beaumanoir had the door open instantly with his own private key, and clambering down on to the side of the line nearly fell into the arms of the guard, hurrying from the rear van towards the engine.
[174]
