A Breaker of Laws/Chapter 16

by W. Pett Ridge

 

CHAPTER XVI

With a smart movement he wrested himself free; his hat came off. Another movement sent Dowton backwards from the narrow platform on the rails. The others hurried up; Alfred made a straight run at them, a course of action so unexpected that only one man set after him. On the platform an official contented himself by shouting, as Alfred disappeared in the direction of the smoking tunnels, 'Hi! You can't go there!' and having given this warning, apparently felt himself relieved from all responsibility, and stood back to watch the hurried conference of the policemen and detectives under the leadership of Inspector MacDonogh. Alfred, covering the open ballasted space between the two pairs of lines as swiftly as his lame leg would permit, plunged into the dense sulphurous cloud that marked the mouths of the two tunnels. He guessed that he would be safe there; felt cheered to hear his pursuer rushing into the right tunnel as he entered the one on the left. It was black dark, and the smell of smoke at first made him choke and gasp for breath. Water trickled and ran down on either side; he could feel the slimy walls, and hear the pit, pit, pit of the drops as they went into a pool. The red lights of the train going north disappeared, another train approached him from behind, and he stood flat against the inside wall. The new train brought with it a hailstorm of pebbles which rained at his head; one of the stones cut his face, and when the roaring, clattering set of carriages had gone he decided that this plan of evasion was not without disadvantages. He stepped across the set of rails, found by the sense of touch (he could see nothing, and he did not dare to strike a match) a recess where stood the tools—a shovel and a long-handled hammer—of platelayers.

Now, for the first time since he left the train at Spa Road, opportunity came for thought. Now, in this black, frightening, sulphur-smelling, underground space he for the first time could think calmly of Caroline and the boy; whatever happened, he would never give them up. If he had to leave the country, he would arrange somehow that they should come with him. He was not going to be caught, of course; for if he were caught, she would have to be told of it, and then, on every day of her life, at every hour, at every moment, he would be debased in her memory. Her pride of him and her esteem would disappear; there would be reproach in the brown eyes, where before he had seen only good-humour and affection and reverence. That would be unendurable! He would rather step in the way of the next engine and be struck out of life than feel that she had changed her opinion of him. Trafalgy was most likely in bed, down at Westgate, by this time; Caroline would be writing another letter to her dear husband.

'You're no good, Alf Bateson,' he whispered.

This the one clear view, that she must never, never know. The boy must not know.

What was luck doing that it no longer bore him company? In this exploit nothing had succeeded; that fact, indeed, formed no small part of the general annoyance. The stable by this time had possibly been emptied of the boxes of watches, and the contents taken to fill a cell in the police-station. The boy carman, once free from Mill Lane, would be able to supplement openly the information given privately and confidentially by Mother Fayres. Plain-clothes men would be watching the shop at Lewisham. Poor old Finnis! There was still hope, though. It was part of his luck, surely, that just here were two tunnels; if they all searched the other——

'’Twill be well, boys,' said the voice of the inspector echoing in the tunnel, 'to keep a specially good look-out for any signs of blood. It's just possible he may have been knocked down by a locomotive.'

'He's no right to,' growled one of the plain-clothes men.

The lamps they held danced about in the darkness; one had a shining brass reflector, that enabled its light to reach further than the others. Alfred Bateson, creeping well back against the wall of the recess, put his hand on a hammer.

'He'd done infinitely better, in my opinion,' continued the inspector, 'to have given himself up in a gentlemanly manner when he saw the game was over. Rowden, me man, pay particular attention, if ye please, to the wall on your side, and one of ye keep a good look-out behind for the train. There'd be nothing amusin' in the whole of us being run over.'

'Takes a lot to make me laugh,' came the remark, 'and that wouldn't do it. My lamp's going out, sir.'

'Rowden,' said the cheerful inspector, 'ye're a foolish virgun. Do the best you can with wax matches, and for goodness' sake, boys, don't let him escape us. Think of what the M Division will say if that happens.' One of the men stumbled over a sleeper and made an exclamation of annoyance; the others stopped and examined the stout slab of timber suspiciously, as though half inclined to arrest it for obstruction. 'Back against the wall!' commanded the inspector sharply. 'Another train's comin' down upon us. Rowden, there's a place just close to you where you can be in ambush; I'm pointing me lamp towards it now.'

The man spoken to by the inspector crouched in the recess as the train screamed through. In one of the carriages a party of passengers were roaring a chorus madly. The man turned when a simoom following the train had passed, and Alfred's hand grasped the long handle of the hammer. At that moment there was a life in peril.

'Hurry on, boys!' commanded MacDonogh. 'He can't escape at the Wappin' end, but for his own sake we may as well catch him soon. He'll be more comfortable in the station than he will here.'

'Take me oath I shall!' growled one of the others. They went on, dim, vague figures, into the darkness.

The Wapping end, then, was closed to him, was it? Very well, he would return cautiously to Rotherhithe, and, waiting opportunity, slip out with the passengers. If only one of these rushing trains would slacken speed, he could jump on the carriage steps, and then an empty compartment would be all that was required. None of them did stop. He limped slowly and wearily back, keeping close to the outer wall.

He had not entirely lost heart, but thoughts of Caroline and the possibility of her bitter disappointment and contempt crowded his brain and depressed him, as the arched opening, with its dim lights from Rotherhithe Station, came into sight. He wanted rest; his mouth burned for drink; he desired with a craving desire to get out of this terrifying blackness; but he still proceeded warily along the side of the wall, so that he might not rush out into the open until the occasion of a train arriving. What it would be to find himself upstairs and out into the open, rain or no rain, lame leg or no lame leg! To get away to Westgate and hurry with her——

'Alf Bateson!' whispered a familiar voice. He felt himself seized by both arms at the back. Dowton had been keeping goal, it seemed, at the Rotherhithe end. 'For the second time of asking, are you coming?'

'Brast you, Dowton!' said the other.

'By all means,' said Dowton amiably, 'but do come quiet, like a good sort. You're only makin' it worse for yourself.'

'You don't take me alive,' he panted, struggling.

'Why not keep cool!' protested Dowton, tightening his grasp. 'If I was in your place, I'd see it out like a man. Don't forget you've got a wife and child lo think of.'

'D'you fancy I'm not thinking of 'em now?' he screamed hoarsely. 'D'you fancy the mere thought of her isn't enough to drive me mad?'

'She always spoke well of you.'

'She won't do so again.'

'Getting on so comfortable, too, you were,' went on Dowton, not relaxing his grasp. 'I always had me suspicions of you ever since that old affair where I, to a certain extent, was slightly in the wrong, but I could have took me oath you'd given it all up. What on earth made you start again?'

'It's in the blood,' said Alfred moodily. 'Mother was all right, but father——'

'We needn't worry about that now,' interrupted the other. 'I want to get out of this. That shove off the platform shook me. Come on.'

'Not me!' he exclaimed. Then he changed his tone. 'Dowton, let me go, for the Lord in 'eaven's sake. Let me go and I'll leave the country like a shot, and no one shall ever hear of me again. Let me——"

'I'd do anything in reason,' replied the other, 'but now you're talkin' ridiculous. It's an unfortanate thing for the family, I admit, but, bless my soul! there's trouble in all families more or less.' A new train with a white and green headlight came out of the mouth of the opposite tunnel and steamed into the station. 'Be a man, Alf, and come on.'

'I'm goin' to stay 'ere.'

'Come out of the tunnel at any rate, and stand o' one side 'ere.'

'I'm goin' to stay 'ere.'

'The train'll run over you.'

'I'm goin' to stay 'ere,' said Alfred Bateson.

The engine with the white and green headlights whistled. He could see the driver and the fireman on either side of the engine looking up at the sky—the rain seemed to have stopped now—taking a good inhalation of pure air before plunging into the black cavern.

'If I hadn't hurt my arm when you shoved me off the platform,' said Dowton rapidly, 'I'd pull you away. As it is——' He released Alfred and hurried out of the tunnel.

'The man ain't born,' said Alfred Bateson stolidly, 'that could move me from 'ere. I can't bear the idea of seeing her again and her knowing what I reely am. Good-bye, old chap. Be good!'

'But——'

'Goo'-by. Keep out of the way. Tell her I——'

'She needn't never know,' shouted Dowton. The white light and the green light were traversing the open space. One of the station men shouted an instruction.

'Needn't know?' he asked quickly. 'Is that true?'

'True as God,' said Dowton, with great excitement.

Alfred hesitated for a moment; then he stepped aside and stood against the outer wall. The train puffed slowly by, lighting up each side of the tunnel as it went. He felt dazed to find himself still alive, wondered vaguely whether if he had remained there he would by this time have been standing before a Majestic Presence, reconstituting the coloured picture that used to stand in a print-shop in Deptford with a title beneath in German. The engine, acting presumably on a warning from the station officials, screamed loudly and continuously as it carried the train away into the stifling tunnel.

'Mind,' he said, stepping out into the open and speaking in a choked voice, 'mind, that's a promise.'

'It's a promise,' said Detective Dowton. 'I'll do my best.'

They went slowly across in the direction of the platform.