‘That’s where poor old George will get his lodging,’ said Mick.
‘This time eighteen month . . .’ said Atwell solemnly.
‘Ah, not at all,’ said Mick. ‘Sure he’ll be out and about next winter, if he plays his game.’
At the station they found they had still a few minutes to spare, and Abner’s hazy intention of looking for Mary was lost in another rush to the third-class refreshment-room. Just before the train started he ran along the carriages to see if he could find her. In one carriage he saw Mrs Malpas, in another three Lesswardine policemen, in a third Mr Hind was sitting with Susie, who smiled at him. Mary was nowhere to be seen. Mick pulled him into a smoker as the train was starting.
‘God help me!’ said he, ‘is it crazed you are that you can’t leave the woman five minutes to herself. You’ll be seeing all you want of her time her George comes out.’
Atwell laughed stupidly. Abner jumped up in a rage and was for throwing Connor through the window.
‘Ah, be quiet now!’ Mick persuaded, ‘for I don’t mane a word of it!’
Abner settled down sulkily. Atwell had already forgotten the incident and was snoring in his corner. Mick hummed quietly the song about Macarthy, spitting through a chink in the window between the verses. The train jolted on into the darkness, crossing the deep valley of Severn, skirting the eastern foothills of the Long Mynd, sliding down with braked engine into the basin of Teme. At Craven Arms a Welsh cattle dealer joined them, a small, red-bearded man, who eyed them suspiciously and would not be drawn into talk with Mick Connor. The train climbed painfully, the air grew colder. Atwell’s snores joined with the clanking of the wheels to set a spell of drowsiness on Abner’s fuddled brain. He fell asleep.
At Llandwlas Mick woke him. They tumbled out on to the deserted platform. Mary was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped him again, and though he was inclined to be angry at this unreasonable conduct he submitted to Mick’s suggestion that they should walk back to Chapel Green together and get another drink. Two traps passed them on the road, flinging an uncertain light upon the frosty hedges. From the first of them Susie called good-night; in the second they could see the helmets of the police, but no trace either of Mrs Malpas or Mary was to be seen on the road.
The sleep had cleared Abner’s head. They walked quickly through the raw air and in a little more than an hour they saw the poplars of Chapel Green.