"Yes," came a quick answer. "You're the North Shavli crossing-keeper, aren't you? Good! Well, we were just about to call you up. Matters are coming to a climax here. There are only two more trains to go through now. One with men will be with you in a couple of minutes at the latest; the other, with goods, should follow ten minutes afterwards. We are telling the driver to pick you up."
At this point the speaker was called away from the telephone, and an indistinct buzz as of a whole office in conversation, mingled with the trampling of feet and the slamming of doors followed. But finally the speaker returned.
"Halloa, halloa! Are you still there, North Shavli? Telephone forward all I have said, and prepare them for the worst."
Stephania Ychas, now tingling with excitement, did as she was bid. Once more she stood on duty to see the reported train pass, and again she went to the telephone to send her report forward. Having finished, she was about to hang up the receiver when, on looking through the window on her left, her eyes caught sight of something unusual far down the line, almost at the point where the metals curved out of view. To run and fetch a pair of glasses which, ever since the beginning of the war, she had kept hanging in their leather case by the side of the fireplace, to bring them to bear on the point in question, and at the same time to ring up Shavli, was the work of a minute. What she saw, though her calm voice in no way revealed her inner emotion, made the blood run cold through her veins.
"Halloa, halloa! Are you there, Shavli?"
A reply came in the affirmative.
"For Heaven's sake remain at the 'phone. There's foul work going on near the great curve. You must give orders at once to keep back the train."
"One moment, and I will return," replied the railway official.
III—A WOMAN'S MESSAGE: "THEY ARE DYNAMITING THE RAILROAD!"
A pause, which seemed to the woman with the glasses fixed to her eyes an eternity, followed.