The Perfume of Egypt by C. W. Leadbeater (diy ebook reader .txt) 📖

reliable where his work was concerned. It was said in the yard that, though not easily roused, his temper was terrible when once excited, and that he never forgave those who offended him. There was a story told of his lying in wait for three days for a man who had seriously annoyed him in some way, and being with difficulty prevented from killing him by those who stood round; but I can’t say how much of it was true.

It was little enough I knew of him, yet perhaps I was as much his friend as anybody, for each day I used to say a few cheery words to him as he stopped here, till presently he got to give me a smile and a word or two in return; and when I heard he was courting black-eyed Hefty Hawkins, whose father kept the level crossing a few miles down the line, just this side of Keysborough, I ventured to joke him about it, which I don’t think any one else dared to do. Presently he was promoted to the express engine, and then I saw less of him than ever — or rather spoke less to him, for I was generally on the platform each morning to give him a wave of the hand as he ran the first quick train down; and sometimes I saw him again for a moment as he returned at night.

He had not been many months at his new work when there began to be some talk of pretty Hetty Hawkins having another suitor — a young carpenter named Joe Brown. I heard it first from one of the goods guards one morning, while his train was waiting on the siding for Tom’s express to go by; and from the black look on Tom’s face as he went through, we both thought that he had perhaps heard it too. This Joe Brown was generally held to be a worthless sort of young fellow; but then he was young and good-looking, and naturally his work gave him many more opportunities of hanging about after a girl than an engine-driver’s did, so I felt it was rather hard on my poor friend Tom; for though it may he all very well to sing “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” as far as my experience goes I’ve found a deal more truth in the old proverb “Out of sight, out of mind.”

One trick of Joe’s I must mention specially, since my story partly turns upon it. Hetty had been what is called strictly brought up — always kept steadily to school and church as a child; and even now she went regularly to a bible-class that the Rector of Keysborough held every Sunday morning for the young people of the parish — he taking the lads, and his wife the girls. Well, what does graceless Joe do — he who was not seen in a place of worship once in three months — but suddenly become extremely religious and join the Rector’s bible-class! Of course his motives may have been perfectly pure, but gossips did sometimes whisper that the pleasure of walking through the dewy fields to the Rectory and back with pretty Hetty Hawkins might perhaps have something to do with his sudden conversion.

Meanwhile I wondered what Tom Price thought of all this; but I had no chance to speak to him until one morning, owing to some delay in shunting, it happened that the signals were against him, and he had to draw up for a few moments at the platform.

“Tom,” said I, “is this true that I hear about Joe Brown courting your Hetty?”

“Aye,” he replied with an oath and a frown, “it’s true enough, I’m afraid; but if ever I catch the fellow near her he had better take care of himself, I can tell him.”

The signal dropped, and the train started without another word being said; but remembering the look on his face, I felt that if they chanced to meet, Joe’s danger might be a very real one; and when in a few hours came the dreadful news of Tom’s sudden death, almost my first thought was whether he had passed away with his heart still filled with that black jealousy. I got the particulars of the sad event from his fireman that same evening, and found that it was even worse than I thought. It seems that after leaving here the line was clear for them straight through to Keysborough, and by the time they reached Hawkins’ crossing they had got up a good speed, and were bowling along merrily; when, as fate would have it, who should they see but that ne’er-do- well Joe Brown, with his bag of tools on his back, leaning on the gate and talking to Hetty as she gathered flowers in the cottage garden!

The stoker told me that Tom’s face was frightful to see; the veins on his forehead swelled as though they would burst, and for the moment he seemed too much choked with rage to speak a word. But he soon found his voice, and broke out into a storm of oaths and curses; and, reckless of all danger, he leaned far out over the side of the engine to look back and shake his fist towards them, though the rise of the bank had already hidden them from sight.

You have guessed how it happened, sir; whilst he in his mad fury was blind to everything, the train dashed under the little wooden foot-bridge, his head struck one of the piers, and he was hurled to the ground. The horrified stoker stopped the train, and went back with one of the guards to pick him up, but they saw at once that the case was a hopeless one, for he was bathed in blood from a terrible cut in the face; indeed the right side of the head, they told me, was regularly beaten in by the force of the blow. They drew up at Keysborough, and the village doctor was fetched, but he pronounced at once that life was extinct.

“No man could have lived for a moment”, he said, “after receiving such a stroke as that must have been”’

You can imagine how I felt when I heard all this; I don’t profess to be better than my neighbours, but it did shock me to think of a man’s dying in that way with rage in his heart and curses on his lips. Mercifully Hetty Hawkins never heard the whole truth; she had looked up in time to see a black scowl on Tom’s face, and she knew that his death must have happened but a few moments afterwards, but she never had the horror of knowing that she, however innocently, was the cause of it. Of course she was grieved to hear of his terrible end, but she had never really returned his love, and I suppose it made no serious impression on her.

It was the topic of conversation among the railway men for a few days; but presently something else took its place, Jack Wilkinson was put in charge of the Fire Queen, and Tom Price was almost forgotten. It was whispered at Keysborough that his ghost had been seen once or twice on dark nights, but nobody would admit that he believed the rumour.

It was about the end of May, I think, that this happened; and now I must take my story on to the day of the great accident — the memorable third of July. But before I relate my own experience on that dreadful occasion, I must give you what I myself did not get until the afternoon — an account of what happened in the yard up at the terminus that morning. When Jack Wilkinson came on duty, as he generally did, about an hour before his train was timed to start, his engine, the Fire Queen, was not in her usual shed. (Railway men always call their engines “she”, you know, sir, just as sailors do their ships). He looked all over the yard for her, but she was not to be found anywhere, so he went in search of the turner to make enquiries. He, too, was not in his usual box, but presently Jack saw him among a little crowd of others who were gathered round a man lying on the ground, apparently in a swoon. On reaching the group he found that it was one of the pit-sweepers, a man whom he had known for some time. The sufferer was soon able to speak, but seemed greatly terrified, and when asked what had been the matter, could only say in a trembling voice:

“Tom Price! Tom Price!”

“What’s that he says?” cried the turner greatly excited; “has he seen him too?”

Then, in answer to eager enquiries:

“Yes, mates, I swear to you that not half an hour since, when I took the Fire Queen into the shed, there I saw Tom Price standing by where I stopped the engine, as plain as ever I saw him in my life; and a frightful object he looked — all covered with blood, and with a great red gash down the right side of his face — so frightful that I jumped right off the other side of the engine, and I have not felt like myself since.

“Yes, yes!” said the shivering pit-sweeper, “that was just how he looked when I saw him; only he came right up to me, so I struck at him with a bar I had in my band, and it went clear through him as though there was nothing there; and then I went off in a faint, and I don’t know what became of him.”

No one knew what to make of this story; it was difficult to put it all down to imagination when there were two separate witnesses, and the general opinion was that some trick had been played, though no one could guess how or by whom. When everybody had had their say in the matter, Jack called out:

“Meantime, Mr. Turner, where have you put my engine?”

“You’ll find her in the shed, my boy, just where I left her when I saw Tom Price,” replied the turner.

“But she’s not there,” said Jack, “and I can’t find her anywhere in the yard.”

“Perhaps Tom has taken her,” said one of the doubters with a laugh.

“Oh, nonsense,” replied the turner; “she must be there; no one would move her without asking me first.”

Off he went to look, and the others after him; but when they got to the shed, sure enough the engine was not there, nor could they find her anywhere, though they searched the whole yard.

“Well; this is queer,” said the turner; “she must have run away; let us go and ask the signalman whether he has seen her.”

No, he knew nothing of her, he said; certainly some one had taken an engine down the line rather more than half an hour ago, and he had not noticed her come back; but he supposed they were getting up her steam, and thought nothing of it.

“She’s gone, and no mistake about it,” said the turner; “fetch the superintendent and tell him.” The superintendent was fetched, and at once decided to telegraph to the junction and enquire whether anything had been seen of the missing engine. Back came the answer:

“Yes; single engine passed down the main line at tremendous speed.”

“Then she has run away, and there is no one on her,” said the superintendent; and the men all hooked at one another, fearing a terrible accident.

You understand, sir, I knew nothing of all this that I have told you until afterwards; but the morning was so beautiful that I was out and about early to enjoy