Hutchins nodded, and then, remembering, said: "That's right, sir."
"That was your business all day—running between Notcliff and
Ingerfield?"
"Yes, sir. Three journeys up and three down mostly."
"With the same stops on all the down journeys?"
"No. The seven-eleven is the only one that does a run from the Bridge to Swanstead. You see, it is just on the close of the evening rush, as they call it. A good many late business gentlemen living at Swanstead use the seven-eleven regular. The other journeys we stop at every station to Lambeth Bridge, and then here and there beyond."
"There are, of course, other trains doing exactly the same journey—a service, in fact?"
"Yes, sir. About six."
"And do any of those—say, during the rush—do any of those run non-stop from Lambeth to Swanstead?"
Hutchins reflected a moment. All the choler and restlessness had melted out of the man's face. He was again the excellent artisan, slow but capable and self-reliant.
"That I couldn't definitely say, sir. Very few short-distance trains pass the junction, but some of those may. A guide would show us in a minute but I haven't got one."