Russell ran on and on without sense of fatigue, for he was in hard training, his muscles tense and rigid as whipcord, his lungs playing freely. Uzali was far behind and out of the hunt. The Malays, too, showed that they knew they were being followed. For a long time they kept to the road till it began to dawn upon them that their antagonist was gaining ground, then they vaulted lightly over a gate and entered the fields. Russell smiled grimly as he noticed the move. He was not perhaps quite so agile as those in front, but he knew the heavier going would suit him better. Sooner or later he must wear those fellows down and bring them to a sense of their responsibilities. There was consolation in the knowledge that he was armed. He smiled as he felt for his revolver in his hip pocket.
A mile or so and the pace began to tell. The fugitives were not more than sixty or seventy yards away. They were toiling distressfully along, and Russell could see that their limbs were growing heavy under them.
"Pull up!" he cried. "It is useless to go any farther. If you don't stop I'll fire into you."
But there was no suggestion of stopping on the part of the Malays. They swerved to the right as a hare might do and breasted a slight embankment on the top of which was the permanent way of the railway. Russell was not more than two yards in the rear as they stumbled over the fence and dashed across the line. His blood was up, but he did not lose his presence of mind. Something was ringing in his ears besides the rush of wind, something booming and tearing; with a blinding light and headlong rush round the bend tore the express at top speed.
Russell pulled up in the nick of time. He yelled to the Malays. But it was too late. They had seen and heard nothing. They seemed to be licked up by the flaming light and roaring steam. It was over in the flash of an instant. The express had disappeared and the silence of deep darkness fell again, as Russell stood fumbling unsteadily in his pocket for his matches.
He turned, shuddering, from the horror of it. The two figures lay there battered almost out of recognition. They would do no more mischief in this world. Still, they should not be neglected. A few hundred yards down the line Russell could see the lights of a small station and towards this he hurried as fast as his legs would carry him. It was an incoherent story, but he managed to make a sleepy night porter and one or two navvies camping up by the side of the rails to understand something of the tragedy. A few minutes later and the figures were removed to the station where they lay side by side covered with coarse sacking.
"I am staying at Maldon Grange," Russell explained. "I will call in the morning. I dare say one of you would not mind notifying the police for me."
CHAPTER XLIV
THE MEANING OF IT
It was a weary walk back to Maldon Grange, but Russell finished it at length. The chase had carried him farther than he thought, and he was worn out with his exertions and shaken with the horrors of the night. The house appeared to have regained its normal peace, the dining-room lights had been switched on, and Uzali impatiently waited Russell's return.