His tone abruptly hardened; the glance that he turned upon the conductor now was like a lance of flame.
“Well—I’m not superstitious—but—will you tell me why?”
It is significant that the conductor was breaking a rigid Company rule by joining Annister in a surreptitious cigar. Now he turned guiltily as a voice sounded from the corridor at his back:
“Ex-cuse me—but could I trouble you for a light?”
The third man, as Annister could see, was tall and heavily built, with broad shoulders and a curiously small head. He had a sharp, acquisitive nose, and a mouth tight-lipped and thin. Annister, versed in reading men, was abruptly conscious of an instinctive and overmastering repugnance. For the man’s eyes were cold and cruel, sleepy-lidded, like a snake’s, roving between Annister and the conductor in a furtive scrutiny.
The match was still alight. Annister, his hand steady as a rock, extended it to the newcomer, who, with an inarticulate grunt, lighted his cigarette, turning, without further speech, backward along the corridor.
Annister waited a moment until he was certain that the man was out of earshot. Then:
“The ‘third light,’ eh?” he murmured, his tone abruptly hardened. “Well—and why shouldn’t I get off?” he asked, grimly.
The conductor for a moment seemed at a loss.