Of a sudden we ran into the big station at Mâcon, where there was a wait of about five minutes—for the wheels to be tested. Nobody left or entered. All was quite still after the roaring and rocking of the express.
As we waited the odor of roses became much more pronounced, yet I sat at my post by the open window as though wanting fresh air, for the big sleeping-car was very stuffy, the heating apparatus being on. At last we moved out again, and I breathlessly waited for Duperré to hand me something to toss out to Tracy who was ready with the three signal lights beside the line.
The train gathered speed quickly. We had travelled two hundred and seventy miles and now had only a little farther to go. With my eye upon the side of the track, I sat scarce daring to breathe.
The ravine! We were crossing it! I glanced along the corridor. Nobody came in sight.
Next instant I saw three white lights arranged in a row. But we flashed past them!
For some reason, why, I knew not, the plot had failed!
I dared not go to the compartment of either of my companions, so after sitting up a further half-hour I crept back to my sleeping-berth feeling very drowsy, and turning in, slept heavily.
I was awakened by a loud hammering upon my door, and an excited voice outside calling:
“Mr. Hargreave! Mr. Hargreave!”