TEN TERRIBLE MINUTES IN A TRAIN.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 4, Issue 1014, 4 March 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

TEN TERRIBLE MINUTES IN A TRAIN.

One Novembor ovebing a fewypars agp I had occasion to travel from Cannon streot 'to Spa road station, on the South-eastern Jtoilway. It had been a foggy day through- ' out, and thero were comparatively, few passengers. , The compartment which I entered —»second class—had bat ono previous occupant, a stoutly-built mnn of thirty-five,or forty. Ho was attempting, with small success, to jead a book, and he fidgeted about on'his seat m rather, a testy fashjon. : , Having a doubt as to the regularity of $lO trains on'such anovening, I said :: " I supposo this Btopa at Spa road ?" " Spa road! Of course it does,",said t|iis gentleman, with I considered unnecessary vehemonco.' "All these trains stop;at Spa.road/, . "Don't thank-me, sir," he said, amomjnt later. "I only answered a simple question fool or a madman could do that.' 1 . , Hero the train 'moved slowly pff, -find jho speaker, whose face I had not yet-seen, resumed his effortsitd read, miitteringkow and then an imprecation at the expense of tho fog and tho cold. , ' , When wo reached the glasß dome of the borough, market the train! came .to .a stfp, fand ifor tho.firat time I found myself in a poeition to 1 obtain a good view; of my <fellpw: passenger. Hitherto he had constantly kept, his back orshoulders towards me. Nowjhe, threw his.volume: down on the seat and fwjed about. 'Hewaa, Aa .I.have .aaid, .a manj in tljß 'full prima of life, Rather over the 'average Height, He had the broad Bhonldprs and full chest of an athlete. The impression whrch his features produced was decidedly unpleasant. Yet, save for ,the eyes, which had a peculiar and indescribable glare jin them, tne face was not an unhandsome one. "I.did not know that we were so close! to tho .Crystal' Palace," ho said, brusquely. " The Crystal Palaco I" I said in some surprise. "We are not near the Crystal Palaoe." "The fog has affected your eyesight, my friend," was the reply. "Troubleyourself to look out of this window." . : "Oh I ''that 1" I said smiling. "You ljke your joke, sir, I perceive, The Borough market must feel flattered, indeed, to be mistaken for-the'SydenliamPalace," "■Borough market I Of course, it was only . .jny'joks," laughed my companion; but there wM no mirth in the laugh. He : nowtook up his book again and made another attempt to read. Though he fixed his'eyes on the page and even now and again turned a leaf, it was evident that his reading Was little better than a pretence. Indeed) it was so dark in the carriage that to see the small characters in an ordinary volume had become quite impossible. While he was thus engaged. the train reached London Bridge. The moment wo entered tho station my com- , paniop, who had drawn nearer me, returned " to his seat in the corner, farthest from the i" platform, From this he gazed with evidently 1 eager interest on the people repassing the carriage door. As at Cannon street, the number of these was not great, and we were 'still alone when the train again moved off, ! 'The moment we were outside, the station a ohange'eame over my fellow passenger, He .' threw his book on the floor and rose to his ' feet, Hitherto I had, being pre-occupied < with my own thoughts, given small heed to ■ him, Now, without knowing why, I felt '' fascinated. There was a light in his dark > eyes, and an expression in his mouth which at once repelled and attracted me. • " Have you been much of a traveller ?" he asked Suddenly. He was standing with his • back to the door, watching me curiously. ' "I havonover been out of the island," I replied, "Ah I" he said, "I have been.every where —ltaly,.Russia, India, China, Timhuctoo, Ashantee—anywhere—evoryiyhero. I have " been hear the north Pole and quite at the South." " Indeed you must be a very great travel'ler, sir," I said. "I have never been to the moon, No man 1 can be a great traveller who has not been thore."

'■'■;' " Then I'm nfraid that, with the exception . of those famous heroes of Jules Verne, there '■'•' ate very few about." "Just so, just sol And yet a trip up above this detestable fog beyond the clouds would be peculiarly enjoyable. Don't you agree with mc ?" '!. "Not qqito," I said j ".for my own part 'l'd much rather be at my fireside." " You would, would you ? Look at that, smell tliatptasle thafcursed fog." He threw tbewindow, and certainly the fog which. ~'.'poured in was bad enough in all conscience, ''.' ."I graut you it is notpleaaantj either for 3 eyes or throat," I said.'

.' '"I knew you would," continued my strango companion..' ''Any one would be /"'glad to get'out of, it.' The man who would •free you from it would deserve your thanks, ''["would he not?" ■'.'.' [ '" V. -There was a,light in the. speaker's eyes * ; 'which I did.no)' lfke,' and there yw a move- ! ihehtat the cdrnerti of His mqiith the opposite '[ of/ pleasant. While not feeling the : least "'.dread of him I was yet not without a strong ';' desire to roach Spa road. As bad luck would it, while yet we had not'made half the ' ".short journey,, tho train, again came to a • : stop, 1 ' ! " '\ ' '; Yes, he would he a public benefactor '• who could deliver'the;pedmei df London from rfog;"lsaid. : " "*■'*■■•"• "" l; ""' '.'; " would. he[riotf 'eagerlyT' : ' , Theni: l a'm : the ''•'tiiah. ' •'.'. ';; ''■"■" ,: " ;'';■[ f; [;As Hbpoke he eronche'd down and looked np;ttfewjtfi''agls,re!^hat' ! iiiade '"l'fle 1 buttoned his "coat, and','pulled "up his. ?"'fleevisajhe^hiflje^ed'again'': " ,l . ,"''':.: ";., '["l am Jfhe man." "f can free, you from '"theselogs—Lean free myself, M . ;i ' '.' " : , t ■ ( ' ii" 'I r:.:; ]■'■' . < 'i-'miT' ,-■-:: ■ ->■: ;' ... • i .,(Fpr,jthe|rat.time .the .thought; now.:flashed< io Mb M-Wdthat a<inadS4*W< ; npw.that|ftild. light:in : his eyes; that strange twitching 'at the corners oLnkmouth. .1 do not suppose that I am constitutionally, more, afraid .than most '"Of in/neighbors; yeUtthis moment I felt'a> cold sweat break all over me, and I know ,:,-,thfttil lpokedveagerlyiout in l the'darkness',' ,•}£ Jbjopiog, as now tljentrain was slowly moving, we wero near theistation, 'Lsaw'Monly tho ■thiok J fog arid, the feeble light of ,: ri hcro and thero a : ■ Yes, the man was, .'mad,:: raving mad, , /fThere. dould be no doubt about it. .'Only a ; ; maniaciould laugh the mirthless laugh which now came from his throat, as he'.drew-two l.fr^teps:nearer andhissed at me— ■' ■} ''■'""' Wis 'shall.travel together to the moon, JH'Adieii'td'the fogs'; say with mo; the 1"; Iwas; now erect,watohing my companion (i I'-intentlyi - nerving myself 'fora struggle, vfhich it was easy to tell was very neari Icduld ti easily,s'ee I was'no, match for such an,antagonist, My hope'was ! that ;I might hold •i;iay.own for-.thefew minutes necessary to' •i 'reaoh'theSparoad,' where plenty of assisthe available, ■■•■■■■■■■ "Your balloon would scarcely travel on '• iuch a night," I said, with affected indifference " The atmosphere is too thick,"" ■'! ■"•• "'ToqlhickJ Doyou-think'so?" he said. <■:.•_ -ifl'lio. ; Consider the" density 6{. the fog,' "ii'Pw could we possibly get through it?".! ::' " "Well, there's Something in that," he said,

sitting down, " Yet the effort the trial.' 7 ' ■ • ■■ ; ; ; . He sprang anow to his fpet, and.apprpached me, Ho threw out his hands and made a clutch at my throat, - "Thia is how we begin, .this is how I bet the gas fortho trip, I kill you firafc to. gTye you a start. Thon I start myself and follow! you." ~ One shout in tho report of a fog signal) thonwe wero swaying backwardjand forward,in the oar-. riage. in a struggle wh,ich .wjoa. literally ,for jifo or death. Tho madman's breath myiace,,his strong arms.,held me embrace. There was awild joy m.lp.eyk The. foam worked oyt of his.mouth.'-and nis teethi gnashed angriiy against each.qther.! ■Life is dear, and t bad no inclinatjph to yield mine without a desperate struggle'. I tore my .antagonist's hands frpm my throat, and for a moment forced him to.act on ihe defensive. .1 shouted again and,again for help, andhow I longed for Spa road no" wojrda pan describe. The train was nojw.ranning at a good rate, and I knew, the Btatibn.was not. far off. If only I could hold my own for. jmo' half-minute all would be safe.

Pawing .in his exertion for a moment, tho madman suddonly quitted me. Just then, to my horror, the train rushed through piy station without oven slackening speed.' I was in the wrong train, and there was no hope for assistance till we reached New Cross,- .', It ,wsb . evident that my fellow passengers ,had not heard my shouts for assistance • .Without a word of warning my companion again threw, himself upon me, this time with a fury so resistless that I was borne to tho floor., ' "'

"We s,hall go to the moon," he shrieked, " I have a knife—wo can cut our way through the fog." I felt myself helpless. My previous exertions had exhausted my strength, while that of the maniac seemed to increase with the struggle. Strive as I might, I was utterly and entirely in his power now, How slowly the train seemed to move, I believe now that it was going at a good speed, but to me it appeared to .progress at a snail's pace. And how curiously vivid were my thoughts. I saw the home where I was expected, tho kind faces waiting to greet me. I wondered what they'd say when they heard of my death, I caught myself thinking how ugly were the madman's eyes, and 1 even noticed the color of his necktie—blue, with white spots, Ino longer felt any inclination to shout for help. To all intents I looked upon myself as dead. I even began to think of mysolf as a third person, and to lament, in a philosophical fashion, the ill-fortune which cut off at the beginning of his career a promising young man. Then I remembered that I owed a shoemaker for a pair of boots, and I pitied the unfortunate tradesman for the bad dobt he had made, While these and a hundred other thoughts were passing through my brain, it seemed to me that an age had transpired, In reality it could not have been at the outside more than a minute since my unlucky fall, Suddenly, as in a dream, I heard themadman, who now was seated astride my chest, hiss,.. " We'll cut our way to the moon—my knife is sharp. Lot's try it on your throat." With curious deliberation he drew a strong, pocket-knife, and opened it, 1 ' AH right, friend, eh ?" he cried, laughing. " Now mind, do not leave the carriage till I have come up to you." "I am swift," said I, and I declare I did not recognise my own voice. "If I-go first, you shall certainly overtake me; you start and I'll follow." "Moßtartl"

" Yes, you're brave, strong, and you have the knife; you muat go first to clear the way." "Of course, I forgot that," ho cried, almost to my horror, so utterly was I surprised. " Of course, I must clear the way." Still sitting on me, ho deliberately drew the bright blade across his throat, In another moment I .was deluged with blood. At the same time the knife fell from his nerveless grasp. To spring to my feet, to seize the open wound and press the edges together was the work of an instant—though the sudden escape mado me stagger, At the same moment! we reached New Cross station, and a porter threw open the carriage door'

: Fortunately the self-inflicted wound of the madman did not prove fatal, Ultimately I heard jtljat the blood-letting,had a beneficial effect on his brain, I discovered.'next'day that he, was a most dangerous lunatic, who ,had. managed to escape from a private asylum,'

To my surprise, when I looked at the clock' at New ( Cross, I found that my journey fronr |London:!Bridge had not taken ten minutes, They weri'certainly thehngest ten minutes I ever spent,