'They will have to transport me too, then,' she said cheerfully.
But there was no need for felonious entry. The telegraph-office door was open, and Jack Raymond, seeing a native clerk asleep inside, told Lesley she had better remain unseen for the time.
So she walked up the empty platform with its closed doors and looked down the lessening ribbon of line to the drawbridge pier, and came back again. Absorbed in her own thoughts, it was not until she heard the click click of a telegraph instrument, clearly audible in the dead silence, that she recognised she was passing beyond her goal. She pulled up to wait, to listen.
T--U--M-- What on earth was the man signalling? And what symbol was that? Something she did not know. Had they a different code? No. S--H--S--H--K--those she recognised. But what a combination! Was it the cipher? No! she had seen that--that was mostly vowels----
Then it flashed upon her that the man was telegraphing nonsense--he was not telegraphing at all!--he was against them!
She had hardly realised this, when Jack Raymond came out. 'There! that's done, and God go with it,' he said hurriedly; 'the only thing is--what had we better do with the baboo? He must suspect. I have a thousand-rupee note left of your money. Shall I bribe him with it to keep quiet for two hours?'
'No!' she said swiftly, savagely; 'you had better kill him!' He stared.
'He hasn't sent them--the telegrams, I mean--at least not the last. It was all gibberish. I was listening.'
He gave a low whistle. 'By Jove!'--then he looked at her--'you have been of use.'
His pause was only for a second. 'You 'd better come in with me, and lock the door--we shall have to see this thing through, I expect. I remember they told me some of the railway people were in it, and if that is so we must prevent them getting wind of this, till it's too late for them.'