Part 30 (1/2)

The station superintendent met me in the office, which was brilliantly lit and cooled by an electric fan.

”I expect you're feeling pretty well done, Sir John,” he said.

”I feel pretty tired, Johnson, I own.”

”There's a big thunderstorm coming up, not a doubt of it. The air'll be cooler afterwards. All the arrangements about the prisoners are made, sir.”

The staff had been in communication with London all day upon this matter, but I had not heard the result. I inquired from the superintendent now.

”Our two birds, Sir John, and the three they've got at Penzance are to travel to London to-night. They'll be brought up at Bow Street for a minute or two, and remanded for a week to suit your convenience. The Home Office will communicate with you, sir.”

”Very well. How are they going?”

”The night mail train leaves Penzance at twelve, and gets here at two.

The other three will be on board and well guarded. Our prisoners will join the train at Mill Bay Station. I've detailed Prosser and Moore to escort them.”

”See that the men are well armed. How are the prisoners?”

”Very quiet, sir. They seem to realize that it's all up with them.

They've taken their food all right.”

”They are both together?”

”Yes, Sir John. You see, we've only the one cell that is absolutely safe. But that can't make any difference. A man looks in every half-hour. They can't hear him coming, and he reports that they don't even talk.”

”They're not handcuffed?”

”No, I didn't think it necessary, sir. They will be, and chained together, too, when they leave for the train. We searched them thoroughly, and took everything they had on them away half an hour after they were brought in. Would you like to see them, sir?”

”I don't think so, Johnson. I've been a good deal too much in their society during the last day or two. I don't want to look at that Vargus again until he's in the dock, and I'm giving evidence against him.”

”He's a wicked-looking customer, if ever I saw one,” said the inspector, with a face of disgust. ”Well, good-night, sir, and I hope you'll sleep well. I've told the station attendant to have your bath ready at eight. He'll call you then.”

The good Johnson went away, and I was left alone. My head ached, and I felt disinclined for sleep at once. I undressed, however, and sat in pyjamas as I smoked a final pipe. There was whisky, soda and a bowl of ice, and I took a peg. I felt singularly low and dispirited. It was, I supposed, the inevitable reaction of the nerves after all I had endured, combined with the heavy pressure of the atmosphere and the electric tension of the storm. At any rate, I remember feeling--as everyone does at times--that the greatest triumphs and successes were worth very little, after all, when once they were achieved. There is bitterness at the bottom of every cup--_surgit amari aliquid_--and life was a poor thing at best. And I fell to reflecting on the evil and misery that can be wrought by one man.

The gaunt spectre of Hawk Helzephron haunted my mind, and the long row of dead men that must be laid to his account, the brave fellows of my own service, the Transatlantic people--to say nothing of the black scoundrels that he had made and tempted, who had been hurried into eternity with their crimes unrepented....

It was a morbid train of thought, but I was worn out, and the dark hour had its way with me, until I thought of Connie and her merciful preservation from harm, my own rescue. Then, rather ashamed of myself, I made an effort to banish these gloomy imaginings, said my prayers, and got into bed.

All the same, as I fell asleep, the stammer of the approaching thunder and the white glare of lightning, which now and then flashed into the darkened room, seemed like the growling of those awful dogs and the glare of the advancing airs.h.i.+p in the cave....

I think now that I must have had some unconscious premonition of the tragedy which was racing towards me all the time.

... I was awakened sharply and suddenly, at first I thought by a flash of lightning. But it was not so. The electrics had been suddenly turned on, and there were men in uniform round my bed. The wind had risen and was whistling outside. A deluge of thunder rain was in progress, and great sheets of water were flung against the window.

I saw Superintendent Johnson. His face was white as linen.

”What is it?” I shouted.

He shouted in answer, and I heard his voice above the tumult of the storm.