I tore it open. It was brief and to the point.
‘Arab with companion was in train when it left here. Am wiring Luton.’
‘That’s all right. Now unless something wholly unforeseen takes place, we ought to have them.’
That unforeseen!
I went forward with the Inspector and the guard of our train to exchange a few final words with the driver. The Inspector explained what instructions he had given.
‘I’ve told the driver not to spare his coal but to take you into Bedford within five minutes after the arrival of the express. He says he thinks that he can do it.’
The driver leaned over his engine, rubbing his hands with the usual oily rag. He was a short, wiry man with grey hair and a grizzled moustache, with about him that bearing of semi-humorous, frank-faced resolution which one notes about engine-drivers as a class.
‘We ought to do it, the gradients are against us, but it’s a clear night and there’s no wind. The only thing that will stop us will be if there’s any shunting on the road, or any luggage trains; of course, if we are blocked, we are blocked, but the Inspector says he’ll clear the way for us.’
‘Yes,’ said the Inspector, ‘I’ll clear the way. I’ve wired down the road already.’
Atherton broke in.