“I really know very little,” he began. “I came on duty at the usual time, and took an order or two. Then I heard the operator at Hamden report the special. I knew it would be here in a few minutes, and as I had no order for it—”
“You’re sure there was no order for it?” interrupted Mr. Schofield.
“Yes, sir; I had just looked over the orders on the hook. So I went to the door to be sure the signal showed a clear track.”
“It did show a clear track, did it?”
“Yes, sir. I stood there a moment longer; and then I heard the special coming and saw its light flash around the curve. I watched it coming—it must have been running nearly a mile a minute.”
“It was—all of it,” said Mr. Schofield.
“Well, it was almost at the switch, when I heard another engine chug-chugging up the grade from West Junction. I don’t remember clearly just what I did for the next moment or two—I have a sort of recollection that I jerked the signal over and then I heard a shot—”
“It was a torpedo.”
“A torpedo?” echoed Allan. “But who—”