A shrill whistle smote the air, and the porter came hurrying out on the platform, crying:—
"The express, gentlemen, the express! Stand back, please!"
Stanley noticed that unconsciously they had drawn rather near the edge.
"Look out!" he said to Mr. Riddle. "The express is coming!"
"In a moment," replied that gentleman. "I've just dropped my cigar," and indeed it was lying at his feet.
"Hurry up, then, the train is on us! You've no time to lose!"
"I've time enough," he replied, bending deliberately forward.
Some grim note in his voice awoke the Secretary to his true intentions. There was only a second's leeway, the iron monster was even then bursting out of the railway arch at the further end of the platform, with the roar and rush of tremendous speed. Mr. Riddle was bending far forward, overreaching his cigar, making no attempt to get it—was——
Stanley flung his arms about his adversary's waist, and made a superhuman effort to drag him back.
"You meddling fool, let me alone!" shouted the other.