FullReads

In such agreeable reveries I passed the first hour of the journey; when, to my unfeigned relief, on reaching Antrim my fellow-traveller quitted the carriage. No doubt his object was a sinister one, and when I saw him speak to the constable at the station, I had no doubt in my own mind that my liberty was not worth five minutes’ purchase. But even so, anything seemed better than his basilisk eye in the corner of the carriage.

I hastily prepared my defence and resolved on a dignified refusal to criminate myself under any provocation. What were they doing? To my horror, the “detective,” the constable, the guard, and the station- master all advanced on my carriage.

“In there?” said the official.

My late fellow-traveller nodded. The station-master opened the door and entered the carriage. I was in the act of opening my lips to say–

“I surrender myself–there is no occasion for violence,” when the station-master laid his hand on the hat-box.

“It’s labelled to C–,” he said; “take it along, guard, and put it out there. He’s sure to come on by the next train. Right away there!”

Next moment we were off. What did it all mean? I was not under arrest! Nobody had noticed me; but McCrane’s hat-box had engaged the attention of four public officials.

“Free and easy way of doing things on this line,” said an Englishman in the carriage; “quite the regular thing for a man and his luggage to go by different trains. Always turns up right in the end. Are you going to Derry, sir?” he added addressing me.

“No,” said I, hastily. “I’m getting out at the next station.”

“What–at –” and he pronounced the name something like “Tobacco.”

“Yes,” I said, pining for liberty, no matter the name it was called by.

At the next station I got out. It was a little wayside place without even a village that I could see to justify its claim to a station at all. Nobody else got out; and as soon as the train had gone, I was left to explain my presence to what appeared to be the entire population of the district, to wit, a station-master, a porter, and a constable who carried a carbine. I invented some frivolous excuse; asked if there wasn’t a famous waterfall somewhere near; and on being told that the locality boasted of no such attraction, feigned to be dismayed; and was forced to resign myself to wait three hours for the next train.

It was at least a good thing to be in solitude for a short time to collect my scattered wits. McCrane was bound for C–, and would probably come in the next train, which, by the way, was the last. That was all I had a clear idea about. There was a telegraph office at the station, and I thought I might as well report progress to my manager.

“On the trail. Expect news from C–. Wire me there, post-office, if necessary.”

The station-master (who, as usual, was postmaster too) received this message from my hands, and the remainder of the population–I mean the porter and the constable–who were with him at the time read it over his shoulder. They all three looked hard at me, and the station-master said “Tenpence!” in a tone which made my blood curdle. I was doomed to be suspected wherever I went! What did they take me for now?

I decided to take a walk and inspect the country round. It annoyed me to find that the constable with his carbine thought well to take a walk too, and keep me well in view.

I tried to dodge him, but he was too smart for me; and when finally to avoid him I took shelter in a wayside inn, he seated himself on the bench outside and smoked till I was ready to come out.