We had still to get off the carriage, and, although people were hurrying up with assistance, there was no time to wait for them. Crawling over the wreckage to a spot where the side of the carriage had been shattered, I threw the suit case out, sprang after it, and held out my arms, calling to Nessa to jump. She did it without a second's hesitation, falling right on top of me with sufficient suddenness and force to send us both sprawling to the ground.
We were up again in a moment. Nessa laughed strangely and hysterically. "I'm all right, Jack," she cried breathlessly. "Mind the suit case;" and then clutched me convulsively and fainted.
It wasn't surprising, considering that we had had so narrow a squeak for it, and I could estimate the effect upon her by my own general shakiness. What amazed me was that in such a crisis, when death had been a matter of seconds almost, she had seemed to think more about that blessed suit case than her own safety. But she told me the reason afterwards; and of course it was on my account.
I wasn't sorry she fainted. The whole scene was so painful and horrible, that it was a mercy she was spared the sight and smell and sounds of it. Then again it helped to rally me, as I had to see to her. I picked her up and carried her right away to a distance where neither sight nor sound of the disaster was likely to be too obtrusively harrowing, found a shed, and gave her some brandy, and had a swig of it myself.
She soon came round, but was much too overcome by the shock to be moved for a long time, or even to talk. So I let her lie where she was, wrapped her up in some of the clothes in the suit case, lit a cigarette, and set to work to think what our next move had better be.
It wasn't the easiest of problems. There was no chance of getting across the frontier that night, for we had neither tickets nor passports. That bully of a major had kept them. What had happened to him in the smash couldn't be even guessed, of course; but whatever it might be, there was no recovering our papers. That was a certainty.
Could any others be got? Not at Osnabrück. That telegram had been sent to the guard of the doomed train and, if he was alive, he would undoubtedly inform the police; and the instant I turned up as Lassen, we should both be clapped into gaol.
It looked as if it would be extremely unhealthy to attempt to ask for any message from von Gratzen. A very aggravating poser. It was galling to think that a message might be waiting which would clear the road for us effectually, and yet be unable to go for it.
There was the unpleasant contingency that it might not be there, moreover; in which case I should have to put my head in the lion's mouth, with a great probability of the jaws closing on it. A very awkward risk. It didn't affect me so much as Nessa. Even if the police held me in custody as a suspected murderer, it would only be a temporary trouble. But Nessa? What would happen to her it was impossible to foresee; so I ruled out that course.
If we were to get out of the country it must be done under strictly unofficial patronage. Our own. The less we bothered von Gratzen or any one else, the better. That meant going on in our disguises; and then I realized how invaluable Nessa's thought of the suit case had been.