Round the Fire Stories

“In the meantime you will be interested to know what my movements were.Everything had been prepared for days before, and only the finishingtouches were needed. The side line which we had chosen had once joinedthe main line, but it had been disconnected. We had only to replace afew rails to connect it once more. These rails had been laid down as faras could be done without danger of attracting attention, and now it wasmerely a case of completing a juncture with the line, and arranging thepoints as they had been before. The sleepers had never been removed, andthe rails, fish-plates, and rivets were all ready, for we had taken themfrom a siding on the abandoned portion of the line. With my small butcompetent band of workers, we had everything ready long before thespecial arrived. When it did arrive, it ran off upon the small side lineso easily that the jolting of the points appears to have been entirelyunnoticed by the two travellers.

“Our plan had been that Smith the stoker should chloroform John Slaterthe driver, so that he should vanish with the others. In this respect,and in this respect only, our plans miscarried—I except the criminalfolly of McPherson in writing home to his wife. Our stoker did hisbusiness so clumsily that Slater in his struggles fell off the engine,and though fortune was with us so far that he broke his neck in thefall, still he remained as a blot upon that which would otherwise havebeen one of those complete masterpieces which are only to becontemplated in silent admiration. The criminal expert will find in JohnSlater the one flaw in all our admirable combinations. A man who has hadas many triumphs as I can afford to be frank, and I therefore lay myfinger upon John Slater, and I proclaim him to be a flaw.

“But now I have got our special train upon the small line twokilomètres, or rather more than one mile, in length, which leads, orrather used to lead, to the abandoned Heartsease mine, once one of thelargest coal mines in England. You will ask how it is that no one sawthe train upon this unused line. I answer that along its entire lengthit runs through a deep cutting, and that, unless some one had been onthe edge of that cutting, he could not have seen it. There _was_ someone on the edge of that cutting. I was there. And now I will tell youwhat I saw.

“My assistant had remained at the points in order that he mightsuperintend the switching off of the train. He had four armed men withhim, so that if the train ran off the line—we thought it probable,because the points were very rusty—we might still have resources to fallback upon. Having once seen it safely on the side line, he handed overthe responsibility to me. I was waiting at a point which overlooks themouth of the mine, and I was also armed, as were my two companions. Comewhat might, you see, I was always ready.

“The moment that the train was fairly on the side line, Smith, thestoker, slowed-down the engine, and then, having turned it on to thefullest speed again, he and McPherson, with my English lieutenant,sprang off before it was too late. It may be that it was thisslowing-down which first attracted the attention of the travellers, butthe train was running at full speed again before their heads appeared atthe open window. It makes me smile to think how bewildered they musthave been. Picture to yourself your own feelings if, on looking out ofyour luxurious carriage, you suddenly perceived that the lines uponwhich you ran were rusted and corroded, red and yellow with disuse anddecay! What a catch must have come in their breath as in a second itflashed upon them that it was not Manchester but Death which was waitingfor them at the end of that sinister line. But the train was runningwith frantic speed, rolling and rocking over the rotten line, while thewheels made a frightful screaming sound upon the rusted surface. I wasclose to them, and could see their faces. Caratal was praying, Ithink—there was something like a rosary dangling out of his hand. Theother roared like a bull who smells the blood of the slaughter-house. Hesaw us standing on the bank, and he beckoned to us like a madman. Thenhe tore at his wrist and threw his dispatch-box out of the window in ourdirection. Of course, his meaning was obvious. Here was the evidence,and they would promise to be silent if their lives were spared. It wouldhave been very agreeable if we could have done so, but business isbusiness. Besides, the train was now as much beyond our control astheirs.

“He ceased howling when the train rattled round the curve and they sawthe black mouth of the mine yawning bef

ore them. We had removed theboards which had covered it, and we had cleared the square entrance. Therails had formerly run very close to the shaft for the convenience ofloading the coal, and we had only to add two or three lengths of rail inorder to lead to the very brink of the shaft. In fact, as the lengthswould not quite fit, our line projected about three feet over the edge.We saw the two heads at the window: Caratal below, Gomez above; but theyhad both been struck silent by what they saw. And yet they could notwithdraw their heads. The sight seemed to have paralyzed them.

“I had wondered how the train running at a great speed would take thepit into which I had guided it, and I was much interested in watchingit. One of my colleagues thought that it would actually jump it, andindeed it was not very far from doing so. Fortunately, however, it fellshort, and the buffers of the engine struck the other lip of the shaftwith a tremendous crash. The funnel flew off into the air. The tender,carriages, and van were all smashed up into one jumble, which, with theremains of the engine, choked for a minute or so the mouth of the pit.Then something gave way in the middle, and the whole mass of green iron,smoking coals, brass fittings, wheels, woodwork, and cushions allcrumbled together and crashed down into the mine. We heard the rattle,rattle, rattle, as the _débris_ struck against the walls, and then quitea long time afterwards there came a deep roar as the remains of thetrain struck the bottom. The boiler may have burst, for a sharp crashcame after the roar, and then a dense cloud of steam and smoke swirledup out of the black depths, falling in a spray as thick as rain allround us. Then the vapour shredded off into thin wisps, which floatedaway in the summer sunshine, and all was quiet again in the Heartseasemine.

“And now, having carried out our plans so successfully, it only remainedto leave no trace behind us. Our little band of workers at the other endhad already ripped up the rails and disconnected the side line,replacing everything as it had been before. We were equally busy at themine. The funnel and other fragments were thrown in, the shaft wasplanked over as it used to be, and the lines which led to it were tornup and taken away. Then, without flurry, but without delay, we all madeour way out of the country, most of us to Paris, my English colleague toManchester, and McPherson to Southampton, whence he emigrated toAmerica. Let the English papers of that date tell how thoroughly we haddone our work, and how completely we had thrown the cleverest of theirdetectives off our track.

“You will remember that Gomez threw his bag of papers out of the window,and I need not say that I secured that bag and brought them to myemployers. It may interest my employers now, however, to learn that outof that bag I took one or two little papers as a souvenir of theoccasion. I have no wish to publish these papers; but, still, it isevery man for himself in this world, and what else can I do if myfriends will not come to my aid when I want them? Messieurs, you maybelieve that Herbert de Lernac is quite as formidable when he is againstyou as when he is with you, and that he is not a man to go to theguillotine until he has seen that every one of you is _en route_ for NewCaledonia. For your own sake, if not for mine, make haste, Monsieurde ——, and General ——, and Baron —— (you can fill up the blanks foryourselves as you read this). I promise you that in the next editionthere will be no blanks to fill.

“P.S.—As I look over my statement there is only one omission which I cansee. It concerns the unfortunate man McPherson, who was foolish enoughto write to his wife and to make an appointment with her in New York. Itcan be imagined that when interests like ours were at stake, we couldnot leave them to the chance of whether a man in that class of lifewould or would not give away his secrets to a woman. Having once brokenhis oath by writing to his wife, we could not trust him any more. Wetook steps therefore to insure that he should not see his wife. I havesometimes thought that it would be a kindness to write to her and toassure her that there is no impediment to her marrying again.”

THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER

My uncle, Mr. Stephen Maple, had been at the same time the mostsuccessful and the least respectable of our family, so that we hardlyknew whether to take credit for his wealth or to feel ashamed of hisposition. He had, as a matter of fact, established a large grocery inStepney which did a curious mixed business, not always, as we had heard,of a very savoury character, with the riverside and seafaring people. Hewas ship’s chandler, provision merchant, and, if rumour spoke truly,some other things as well. Such a trade, however lucrative, had itsdrawbacks, as was evident when, after twenty years of prosperity, he wassavagely assaulted by one of his customers and left for dead, with threesmashed ribs and a broken leg, which mended so badly that it remainedfor ever three inches shorter than the other. This incident seemed, notunnaturally, to disgust him with his surroundings, for, after the trial,in which his assailant was condemned to fifteen years’ penal servitude,he retired from his business and settled in a lonely part of the Northof England, whence, until that morning, we had never once heard ofhim—not even at the death of my father, who was his only brother.

My mother read his letter aloud to me: “If your son is with you, Ellen,and if he is as stout a lad as he promised for when last I heard fromyou, then send him up to me by the first train after this comes to hand.He will find that to serve me will pay him better than the engineering,and if I pass away (though, thank God, there is no reason to complain asto my health) you will see that I have not forgotten my brother’s son.Congleton is the station, and then a drive of four miles to Greta House,where I am now living. I will send a trap to meet the seven o’clocktrain, for it is the only one which stops here. Mind that you send him,Ellen, for I have very strong reasons for wishing him to be with me. Letbygones be bygones if there has been anything between us in the past. Ifyou should fail me now you will live to regret it.”

We were seated at either side of the breakfast table, looking blankly ateach other and wondering what this might mean, when there came a ring atthe bell, and the maid walked in with a telegram. It was from UncleStephen.

“On no account let John get out at Congleton,” said the message. “Hewill find trap waiting seven o’clock evening train Stedding Bridge, onestation further down line. Let him drive not me, but Garth FarmHouse—six miles. There will receive instructions. Do not fail; only youto look to.”

“That is true enough,” said my mother. “As far as I know, your uncle hasnot a friend in the world, nor has he ever deserved one. He has alwaysbeen a hard man in his dealings, and he held back his money from yourfather at a time when a few pounds would have saved him from ruin. Whyshould I send my only son to serve him now?”

But my own inclinations were all for the adventure.

“If I have him for a friend, he can help me in my profession,” I argued,taking my mother upon her weakest side.

“I have never known him to help any one yet,” said she, bitterly. “Andwhy all this mystery about getting out at a distant station and drivingto the wrong address? He has got himself into some trouble and he wishesus to get him out of it. When he has used us he will throw us aside ashe has done before. Your father might have been living now if he hadonly helped him.”

But at last my arguments prevailed, for, as I pointed out, we had muchto gain and little to lose, and why should we, the poorest members of afamily, go out of our way to offend the rich one? My bag was packed andmy cab at the door, when there came a second telegram.

“Good shooting. Let John bring gun. Remember Stedding Bridge, notCongleton.” And so, with a gun-case added to my luggage and somesurprise at my uncle’s insistence, I started off upon my adventure.

The journey lies over the main Northern Railway as far as the station ofCarnfield, where one changes for the little branch line which winds overthe fells. In all England there is no harsher or more impressivescenery. For two hours I passed through desolate rolling plains, risingat places into low, stone-littered hills, with long, straight outcropsof jagged rock showing upon their surface. Here and there littlegrey-roofed, grey-walled cottages huddled into villages, but for manymiles at a time no house was visible nor any sign of life save thescattered sheep which wandered over the mountain sides. It was adepressing country, and my heart grew heavier and heavier as I neared myjourney’s end, until at last the train pulled up at the little villageof Stedding Bridge, where my uncle had told me to alight. A singleramshackle trap, with a country lout to drive it, was waiting at thestation.

“Is this Mr. Stephen Maple’s?” I asked.

The fellow looked at me with eyes which were full of suspicion. “What isyour name?” he asked, speaking a dialect which I will not attempt toreproduce.

“John Maple.”

“Anything to prove it?”

I half raised my hand, for my temper is none of the best, and then Ireflected that the fellow was probably only carrying out the directionsof my uncle. For answer I pointed to my name printed upon my gun-case.

“Yes, yes, that is right. It’s John Maple, sure enough!” said he, slowlyspelling it out. “Get in, maister, for we have a bit of a drive beforeus.”

The road, white and shining, like all the roads in that limestonecountry, ran in long sweeps over the fells, with low walls of loosestone upon either side of it. The huge moors, mottled with sheep andwith boulders, rolled away in gradually ascending curves to the mistysky-line. In one place a fall of the land gave a glimpse of a grey angleof distant sea. Bleak and sad and stern were all my surroundings, and Ifelt, under their influence, that this curious mission of mine was amore serious thing than it had appeared when viewed from London. Thissudden call for help from an uncle whom I had never seen, and of whom Ihad heard little that was good, the urgency of it, his reference to myphysical powers, the excuse by which he had ensured that I should bringa weapon, all hung together and pointed to some vague but sinistermeaning. Things which appeared to be impossible in Kensington becamevery probable upon these wild and isolated hillsides. At last, oppressedwith my own dark thoughts, I turned to my companion with the intentionof asking some questions about my uncle, but the expression upon hisface drove the idea from my head.