He went on to the little platform, whilst I bent over the fire and began to build it up. Presently he returned with a scared look on his face. I could see by the light of the oil lamp which hung on the wall that he was trembling.
"Mr. Bell," he said, "I believe there is somebody or something down at the mouth of the tunnel now." As he spoke he clutched me by the arm. "Go and look," he said; "whoever it is, it has put out the light."
"Put out the light?" I cried. "Why, what's the time?"
Henderson pulled out his watch.
"Thank goodness, most of the night is gone," he said; "I didn't know it was so late, it is half-past five."
"Then the local is not due for an hour yet?" I said.
"No; but who should put out the light?" cried Henderson.
I went to the door, flung it open, and looked out. The dim outline of the tunnel was just visible looming through the darkness, but the red light was out.
"What the dickens does it mean, sir?" gasped the Inspector. "I know the lamp had plenty of oil in it. Can there be any one standing in front of it, do you think?"
We waited and watched for a few moments, but nothing stirred.