The Fourth Ghost Story MEGAPACK ®. Sarah Orne Jewett
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“Because there is no station along the line where he is so well known or where he would run so great a risk. It would be just running his head into the lion’s mouth; he would have been mad to come nigh Blackwater station; and if he had come he would have been arrested before he left the platform.”
“Can you tell me who took the Blackwater tickets of that train?”
“I can, sir. It was the guard, Benjamin Somers.”
“And where can I find him?”
“You can find him, sir, by staying here, if you please, till one o’clock. He will be coming through with the up express from Crampton, which stays at Blackwater for ten minutes.”
We waited for the up express, beguiling the time as best we could by strolling along the Blackwater road till we came almost to the outskirts of the town, from which the station was distant nearly a couple of miles. By one o’clock we were back again upon the platform and waiting for the train. It came punctually, and I at once recognized the ruddy-faced guard who had gone down with my train the evening before.
“The gentlemen want to ask you something about Mr. Dwerrihouse Somers,” said the station-master, by way of introduction.
The guard flashed a keen glance from my face to Jelf’s and back again to mine.
“Mr. John Dwerrihouse, the late director?” said he, interrogatively.
“The same,” replied my friend. “Should you know him if you saw him?”
“Anywhere, sir.”
“Do you know if he was in the 4.15 express yesterday afternoon?”
“He was not, sir.”
“How can you answer so positively?”
“Because I looked into every carriage and saw every face in that train, and I could take my oath that Mr. Dwerrihouse was not in it. This gentleman was,” he added, turning sharply upon me. “I don’t know that I ever saw him before in my life, but I remember his face perfectly. You nearly missed taking your seat in time at this station, sir, and you got out at Clayborough.”
“Quite true, guard,” I replied; “but do you not also remember the face of the gentleman who travelled down in the same carriage with me as far as here?”
“It was my impression, sir, that you travelled down alone,” said Somers, with a look of some surprise.
“By no means. I had a fellow-traveller as far as Blackwater, and it was in trying to restore him the cigar-case which he had dropped in the carriage that I so nearly let you go on without me.”
“I remember your saying something about a cigar-case, certainly,” replied the guard; “but—”
“You asked for my ticket just before we entered the station.”
“I did, sir.”
“Then you must have seen him. He sat in the corner next the very door to which you came.”
“No, indeed; I saw no one.”
I looked at Jelf I began to think the guard was in the ex-director’s confidence, and paid for his silence.
“If I had seen another traveller I should have asked for his ticket,” added Somers. “Did you see me ask for his ticket, sir?”
“I observed that you did not ask for it, but he explained that by saying—” I hesitated. I feared I might be telling too much, and so broke off abruptly.
The guard and the station-master exchanged glances. The former looked impatiently at his watch.
“I am obliged to go on in four minutes more, sir,” he said.
“One last question, then,” interposed Jelf, with a sort of desperation. “If this gentleman’s fellow-traveller had been Mr. John Dwerrihouse, and he had been sitting in the corner next the door by which you took the tickets, could you have failed to see and recognize him?”
“No, sir; it would have been quite impossible.”
“And you are certain you did not see him?”
“As I said before, sir, I could take my oath I did not see him. And if it wasn’t that I don’t like to contradict a gentleman, I would say I could also take my oath that this gentleman was quite alone in the carriage the whole way from London to Clayborough. Why, sir,” he added, dropping his voice so as to be inaudible to the station-master, who had been called away to speak to some person close by, “you expressly asked me to give you a compartment to yourself, and I did so. I locked you in, and you were so good as to give me something for myself.”
“Yes; but Mr. Dwerrihouse had a key of his own.”
“I never saw him, sir; I saw no one in that compartment but yourself. Beg pardon, sir; my time’s up.”
And with this the ruddy guard touched his cap and was gone. In another minute the heavy panting of the engine began afresh, and the train glided slowly out of the station.
We looked at each other for some moments in silence. I was the first to speak.
“Mr. Benjamin Somers knows more than he chooses to tell,” I said.
“Humph! do you think so?”
“It must be. He could not have come to the door without seeing him; it’s impossible.”
“There is one thing not impossible, my dear fellow.”
“What is that?”
“That you may have fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing.”
“Could I dream of a branch line that I had never heard of? Could I dream of a hundred and one business details that had no kind of interest for me? Could I dream of the seventy-five thousand pounds?”
“Perhaps you might have seen or heard some vague account of the affair while you were abroad. It might have made no impression upon you at the time, and might have come back to you in your dreams, recalled perhaps by the mere names of the stations on the line.”
“What about the fire in the chimney of the blue room—should I have heard of that during my journey?”
“Well, no; I admit there is a difficulty about that point.”
“And what about the cigar-case?”
“Ay, by jove! there is the cigar-case. That is a stubborn fact. Well, it’s a mysterious affair, and it will need a better detective than myself, I fancy, to clear it up. I suppose we may as well go home.”
A week had not gone by when I received a letter from the secretary of the East Anglian Railway Company, requesting the favour of my attendance at a special board meeting not then many days distant. No reasons were alleged and no apologies offered for this demand upon my time, but they had heard, it was clear, of my inquiries anent the missing director, and had a mind to put me through some sort