On she came, passing quite close to Mr. Quest, so close that he could
hear her swearing at the incivility of the porter. There was a third-
class compartment just opposite, and this she entered. It was one of
those carriages that are still often to be seen on provincial lines in
which the partitions do not go up to the roof, and, if possible, more
vilely lighted than usual. Indeed the light which should have
illuminated the after-half of it had either never been lit or had gone
out. There was not a soul in the whole length of the compartment.
As soon as his wife was in, Mr. Quest watched his opportunity.
Slipping up to the dark carriage, he opened and shut the door as
quietly as possible and took his seat in the gloom.
The engine whistled, there was a cry of "right forrard," and they were
off.
Presently he saw the woman stand up in her division of the compartment
and peep over into the gloom.
"Not a blessed soul," he heard her mutter, "and yet I feel as though
that devil Billy was creeping about after me. Ugh! it must be the
horrors. I can see the look he gave me now."
A few minutes later the train stopped at a station, but nobody got in,
and presently it moved on again. "Any passengers for Effry?" shouted
the porter, and there had been no response.
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