Just before his special rounded the bend which brought it within sight
of Bayham Junction the Lynhaven express had reached within a few
hundred yards of annihilation. The signalman at Bayham Junction had
watched the oncoming rush of Bones's train, and, having a fairly
extensive knowledge of the "Mary Louisa" and her eccentricities, he
realised just what had happened.
There was only one thing to be done. He could see the smoke from the
Cabinet Minister's special rising above the cutting two miles away, and
he threw over two levers simultaneously. The first set the points
which brought the Lynhaven express on to the main line, switching it
from the deadly bay wherein the runaway train would have been smashed
to pieces; the second lever set the distant signal against the special.
It was a toss-up whether the special had not already passed the distant
signal, but he had to take that risk.
Bones, with his arm round the girl, awaiting a noisy and violent
dissolution, felt the "Mary Louisa" sway to the right when it should
have swayed to the left, heard the clang of the points as he passed
them, and drew a long breath when he found himself headed along a
straight clear stretch of line. It was some time before he found his
voice, and then it was little more than a squeak.
"We're going to London, dear old thing," he said tremulously.
The girl smiled, though her face was deathly pale.
"I thought we were going to heaven," she said.
"Never, dear old thing," said Bones, recovering something of his
spirits as he saw the danger past. "Old Bones will never send you
there."
The problem of the "Mary Louisa" was still unsettled. She was tearing
away like a Flying Dutchman. She was oozing steam at every pore, and,
glancing back, Bones saw the agitated countenance of the aged guard
thrust through the window. He waved frantically at Bones, and Bones
waved genially back again.
He was turning back to make another attempt on the lever, when, looking
past the guard, he saw a sight which brought his heart into his mouth.
Pounding along behind him, and emitting feathers of steam from her
whistle, was an enormous locomotive. Bones guessed there was a train
behind it, but the line was too straight for him to see.
"Gracious heavens!" he gasped. "We're being chased!"
He jerked at the lever--though it was a moment when he should have left
it severely alone--and to his ill-founded joy it moved.
The two trains came to a standstill together ten miles from Bayham
Junction, and Bones climbed down into the six-foot way and walked back.
Almost the first person he met was a gesticulating gentleman in a frock
coat and with a red face, who, mistaking him for an engine-driver,
dismissed him on the spot, threatened him with imprisonment--with or
without hard labour he did not specify--and demanded what the dickens
he meant by holding up a Cabinet Minister?