'Well, sir, Saturday night was a bright calm night and when the Scotch express was put through to me from Welwyn box I was wondering if there were any Zeppelins about, for it was just such another night as that on which they recently attacked London. They always seem to look for the railway lines for guidance up to town. After I had attended to my signals, and accepted the express, I went to the window of my cabin to look out. As I was standing there the express came out of the tunnel and flew by. The driver was a little late and was, I saw, making up time. As it went past nearly all the windows had drawn blinds—all but about three, I think. At one of them I caught a glimpse of two women who, standing up near the door, seemed to be struggling with each other.'
'You saw them distinctly?' I asked eagerly. 'Two women?'
'Yes. I saw them quite plainly,' he replied, and I realized that he was a man of some intelligence. 'When trains go by, especially the expresses, the glimpse we get is only for a fraction of a second. But in that we can often see inside the carriages at night, if the regulations are broken and the blinds are up. A good many people disregard the danger—even in these days of Zeppelins.'
'They do,' I said. 'But please describe, as far as you are able, exactly what you saw.'
'Well, sir, the Scotch express tore past just as I was standing at the window star-gazing. My mate at Stevenage had just put through an up-goods, and all was clear, so I stood wondering if the Zepps would dare to venture out. Then I heard the low roar
