Arthur Somers Roche

“ Either no porter had heard his cries, or, hearing them, had refused to let the man risk life and limb by opening the vestibuled doors and letting down the steps.
The running man seemed to slip back. He disappeared. I felt sympathy for him. He had made a good fight and deserved to win.
But there were other trains to Portland; other days on which to travel. I didn’t waste much thought on him. My own troubles were too close at hand. In a moment we must begin passing through the tunnel, and all my fears, forgotten in the haste of getting my tickets and bags and making the train, came back to me. ”

“ It might have fallen upon my pillow during the night. It might have done so. And yet, there was the logic of my own creation, Weatherbee Jones—
“Look with suspicion upon too many coincidences!”
Yet why should the brown-haired girl have rifled my bag and pocketbook during the night? How would she dare take such chances? Especially as financial gain could not have been her object, as witness my intact cash?
I was absurd, an utter idiot, suspicious of everything. I prayed that after the train got to Portland I’d not see her again. ”

“ Evidently I was the deepest sleeper of all, for every other berth had been turned into a seat, or folded, if an upper, into the angle between wall and roof of the car.
Right next to me, back to me, sat the girl of the brown hair and eyes. The elderly man, who was talking quietly with her and facing toward me, lifted his eyes as I emerged from the curtains, then looked incuriously away. But I looked at the girl’s hair and saw what, somehow, I had expected to see there, from the moment I glimpsed the object on my pillow. ”

“ I WAITED until my car entered the tunnel. Then I withdrew pipe and tobacco and matches from my jacket pocket. As deliberately as possible I filled the pipe. As fussily as might be I tamped the tobacco down into the bowl. Then, with the greatest concentration and care, I applied a lighted match to the tobacco. I had used up three minutes.
But I will not dwell on my torments during the next seven or eight minutes. Only those who have suffered from my ailment can possibly understand it; others will only jeer. Suffice it to say that the train emerged unscathed from the tunnel. ”

“ Then I smiled at myself. My shoes were freshly shined. In reaching under the berth for them the porter had probably knocked this suitcase off the other one. In replacing it he had tilted the bag, causing the brushes to slide over.
“Weatherbee Jones himself couldn't have done better,” I chuckled.
I placed my pajamas inside the bag, also my discarded shirt and collar and tie, and took out fresh apparel. Then I slipped my jacket on, gathered up the fresh linen and unbuttoned the curtains preparatory to going to the wash-room. But I remembered my pocketbook. I reached under the pillow for it. ”

“ A writer has to be somewhat of a judge of character. Meager as had been my glimpse of these passengers, I yet felt that I could safely assume that not one of those women was other than she appeared to be, a travel-weary woman, harmless, inoffensive, capable of not a single impulse more powerful than to scold the grocer about the last dozen eggs. ”

“ I hurried down the platform.
“Portland, boss? Jes’ in time,” grinned the porter. “Hustle abo’d, boss, she’s goin’ staht dis blessed minute. I’ll toss yo’ bags on.”
But I clung to one of them and scrambled up the car steps. As I reached the top I felt the train start. I looked back; the grinning darky with my other bag swung aboard.
“That was a tight squeeze, boss,” he chuckled. “What’s yo’ car?”
“Seven,” I told him. “Section nine.”
“You struck de right car, den, boss. Dis is seben. But I don’t think yo’ section is made up yet. Does yo’ wish to go to bed right away?” ”

“ If a man may be pardoned for referring to his courage, I think I may honestly state that until recently no one, not even myself, had had any cause to doubt mine. A man with a yellow streak might make one varsity crew ”

“ At my section I remembered that I had not yet taken Billy Odlin’s pellet. I turned, squeezing myself against the curtains of my berth, to let the old man pass. He did so without looking at me, and I walked back to the wash-room. There I put the morphine pellet on my tongue, washed it down with a glass of water, and came back to the car. ”

“ Evidently she had heard my approach, for she made haste in sweeping her change into a hand-bag.
She moved aside, giving me room before the window. As she did so, she half-turned and I recognized her. It was the girl of the theater and the subway, the witness to my panic on those two occasions. I felt my cheeks burn with shame. I turned quickly away and shoved a bill hastily under the grating that protected the agent.
“A ticket to Folly Cove, Maine, via Portland,” I said. “And a section as far as Portland.” ”