LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1354, 17 June 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MARGERY PENNELL. [By the Author of “ In the Head of Night,’ ( Continued .) Half a minute later, with her hand pressed to her bosom, she w r as peering through the crevice in the shutters, all her senses preternaturaily on the alert. What she saw seemed to her, in such a place as that, a strange sight indeed. Round a common deal table sat four men in close and earnest conversation. Tin ei of them were strangers to her : the fourth was Black Hick. On the table were a lighted candle and a bottle of spirits, with glasses and a jug of water. Nowhere could Margery see her father. She looked and [listened, but her interest in the scene was gone, and what they were talking about evidently was no business of hers, but suddenly one of the men took a pistol out of his pocket, and began to examine it, as if to make sure that it was in proper order. It was a pistol with several bairels, such as she had never seen before ; and then she saw that there were others like it on a side-table. Then a name spoken by Black Dick struck on her ear—a name with which she was familiar—that of James Clinch, the signalman at Ottergate Junction. ‘ I tell you again,’ said Dick, emphasising hia words with a blow of his fist on the table, ‘ that the train never passes the j unction before thirty-five after eleven. I’ve timed her myself every night for a week. Two of us can manage Clinch. The other two must keep out of sight till they are wanted.’

Then the other men joined in, and the talk grew more animated. Margery listened as she had never listened before. No thought, now, of running away. Even her anxiety about her father was forgotten for a little while. For full ten minutes she stood there with her ear close to the shutter. Then she had heard enough—enough to daze her, to confound her, to make her ask herself in blank desoair what it was that she ought to do. Suddenly the meeting broke up, and almost before Margery knew what had happened, the do-m was opened and the four men came out. It was too late to run back to the shelter of the apple tree. Fortunately, within a few feet of the window there was a large butt placed to catch the rain-water, Margery slipped round to the other side of this, and, drawing the skirt of her black dress ove? her head, she crouched between the butt and the wall, and waited in mortal dread for what might happen next. The men stood talking for a minute or two at the door, but their voices nuv were more subdued, as .-f they were afraid of being overheard by any chance pas’er-by. Then Blade T>ick came round the coiner of the house and pull-d down the window sash Poor Margery, in her hiding place, felt as if her heart grew white with terror while he was so close to her. But he went back without suspecting anything, and presently all four men got into the trap and drove (prickly away, Then Margery stood up and put down the skirt of her dress, and listened to the noise of the retreating wheels. Yea it was as she thought. On reaching the end of the lane they had turned to the right and taken the road that led to Ottcrgate Junction. What ought she to do ? —what, indeed, could she do ? Even if she were to run across the fields with all her speed, the distance to Ottergate was a good two miles, and the men would be there long before her, and thus render it impossible for her to warn James Clinch in time. Poor James ! She liked his pleasant face and cheery iaggh. She sometimes wondered why b,e ao often went round by her father’s cottage on his long walk to and from his signal-box, when hiti nearest way was through Norman’s Lane. If she could have but warned him! Even while this thought was in her mind, she set off running in the direction of homo. If only her father had got back, she would tell him what she had heard, Surely the news would be enough to sober him; and then he would decide what ought to c.e done. The dear, familiar li"ht at last J She opened the door soitly, and' went in. Her heart sank within her. There were no signs of George Fennell. Everything was as she had left it. except that her sister was asleep, and that the fire had burnt itself down to a few glowing ashes. What could have befallen her father ? Could he have gcg\e round and called up his men, an ka had done one mid- 1 night not long ago, when under the.influence of drink, vowing that it was six o’clock, and time to go to work? But she hhd hardly time to think of her father under the sense of this other responsibility, which weighed upon her with tenfold force, now that she recognised how utterly alouo aim was. As she hurried through the village this last t'me not a single light was to be seen. Everybody was in bed. Homewhero, no doubt, she might have found itagg, the constable—tiie only constable of which Cheverton could boa-t but he was partially deaf, and infirm with rheumatism, and while she was finding him and telling her tale the precious moments would slip away, and the possibility of doing anything would be lost for over, If anything was to bo done, it

must be done at once. The mail would reach Ottergate Junction at eleven thirtyfive, and even while Margery was standing there with despairing heart and dizzy brain, the little Dutch cluck struck eleven. What, oh, what could she do ? she asked herself with a little sob : shs, an ignorant, helpless, country girl. Suddenly, as though it were a flash of inspiration, a thought came into her brain that almost stunned her for a moment “If I could but do it!” she said alo >d. Sie pressed her lingers to her eyes for half a minute, so as to think out more e early the scheme that had been suddenly revealed to her. Then she hesitated no longer. She would try it: she could but fail. The first thing she did was to tie the ends of hs r shawl in a knot at the back of her waist, so as to leave greater freedom of movmcnt for her arms, then she took her father’s lamp—the one he used on the line when out at night, and carefully trimmed and lighted it as she had done a hundred times before. Then she took down from its nail a small rush basket in which her father used sometimes to carry her breakfast or dinner. Into this she put six fog signals, raking them out of the box behind Che pantry door where a stock of them was always kept in case of need. For it was part of George Fennell’s duty daring the foggy nights of autumn and winter, when the ordinary signals could not be seen, to summon certain of the platelayers who worked under him, and having given each of them a supply of fog signals, to station them at various points of the line, in order that the trains, both up and down, might be warned in time that they were approaching the junction : and Margery herself had more tbau once helped to fix the signals when her father happened to be short of men. She was now ready to set out. A last look at her sleeping sister before she issued into the darkness, then shutting the doc? softly behind her, away she sped as if for dear life. The object she had in view was to stop the mail train before it could reach Ottergate Junction. In order to do this she must first of all get on to the line of railway, which, at its nearest point, was quite three-quarters of a mile from George Fennell’s cottage. Margery had the advantage of knowing every inch of the way, and she sped fleetly along, although somewhat impeded by the lamp and the basket, crossing the dark aud lonely uplands without any fear at her heart, save that of the being too late to accomplish what she had set herself to do. A quaner-past eleven chimed from Squire Grayson’s stable clo k as she passed the last house between herself and the rail way. If only the train were five minutes late to-night, as it sometimes was, then all would be well. Chevertou' in thoscjclaysjwas not'thought of sufficient importance to have a railway station to it. The nearest station was at Bickmore, a town of some importance, five miles away. But between Bickmore and Chevertou, about three miles from the former aud two miles from the latter, was ottergate Junction, at which point the line divided itself into two, the main branch keeping on for Bickmore and other places farther north, while a shorter branch to the left gave access to several important collieries and a few villages chiefly inhabited by miners. It was necessary to have a man on duty at the Junction by night as well as day, seeing that three or four long mineral trains had to be despatched during the dark hours on their journey southward. The line to Bickmore was merely a branch from a great trunk line some twenty miles away. Consequently the train, which Margery hoped to intercept was only an offshoot of the London mail, bringing with it the letter-bags for a few remote inland towns and such farbetween passengers as business_or pleasure induced to travel by night. At length the field was "crossed, the last hedge scrambled through, and Margery Fennell found herself on the railway. Her first act was to kneel and place her ear close to the rail. She knew that by doing so the noise made by an approaching train could be heard sooner than in any other way. As yet Margery heard nothing. As nearly as she could calculate, she was a little more than a mile south of Ottergate. She must get still farther away if possible, so as to give the train time to pull up before running too close to the Junction. First seeing that her lamp was all right, and turning on the red slide, she started at a quick pace along the narrow trodden path between the up and down lines, known technically as ‘the six foot.’ When she had gone about fifty yards she halted, and opening her basket, took out of it one of the fog signals. This, stooping on one knee, she proceeded to fix on one of the rails, by turning down and bending under it the two flanges provided for that purpose. Then, having run twenty yards farther, she proceeded to fix another signal, and twenty yards farther another. By this time the noise of the oncoming train was clearly audible. When she had fixed a fourth signal she knew that it was necessary to hurry back. Leaving her basket with the remaining signals, but holding fast to her lamp, she ran fleetly along the ‘ six foot’ till she reached a point about a hundred yards nearer the Junction than the first signal she had put down. Then she turned and waited. By this time the pulsations of the train were becoming lo>Mor with every moment. Margery’s heart seemed to pulsate in unison. Presently the train came swinging round a curve some half mile away, and next instant the lamp in front of the engine was plainly visible from where Margery was standing. Another moment and she heard a faint report as the engine passed over the farthest signal which she had laid down, then another and another, each louder than the previous one. Before this, Margery, standing full in the pathway of the train, was waving her red light frantically. But already the fog signals—fog signals on a clear night—had warned both driver and guard that something must be amiss. Then came three short quick whistles from the engine and all the brakes were at once put on. Margery’s lamp had not been unobserved. She left herself with barely time to stand clear of the line, when the train came crashing past her. Thirty yards farther on it was brought to a dead stop. Before Margery could reach the train, the driver and guard were coming back to meet her, and sundry anxious heads were protruded through the carriage windows. In a few broken sentences Margery told her tale. (To hr continued )