Fandor knew the voice: it was Josephine's.
"No," answered some one. "Let yourself go. I'll catch you."
The sound of heavy shoes on the footboard told him that the robbers were making off. Josephine went with them, so she was their accomplice. The journalist sprang into the corridor to rush in pursuit. But he recoiled. A shot rang out, the glass fell broken before him, and a bullet flattened above his head in the woodwork.
It now seemed to him that the train was gradually gathering way again. Fandor put his head through the broken glass and searched the darkness outside.
"Ah!" he cried in amazement. There was no longer a train on the track, or rather, the main body of the train was vanishing in the distance, while the carriage in which he was and the rear baggage car had pulled up. Apparently the robbers had broken the couplings.
At the moment, the stout man, having quite recovered, drew near Fandor and observed the situation.
"Why, we're backing! We're backing!" he bellowed with alarm.
"Naturally, we're going down a slope," calmly replied Fandor. The other groaned and wrung his hands.
"It's appalling! The Simplon express is only twelve minutes behind us!"