Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Journalists -- Fiction; Murderers -- Fiction
In despair I thrust my head under his arm just in time to see the man
with the red beard disappearing, brown bag and all, through the place
where tickets were collected. To get out and follow him was impossible,
for the yokel drew in his great shoulders almost at the same moment
that I put my head out, and in so doing wedged me into the window like
a plug in a cask, and by the time I could extricate myself the train
had cleared the station and was spanking along toward London.
CHAPTER XXIV
A PRETTY KETTLE OF FISH!
Here was a pretty kettle of fish! For the first desperate moment wild
thoughts of pulling the connecting cord and stopping the train peeped
in my brain like the mad faces seen at the windows of an asylum. But as
the mad faces vanish at the return of the keeper, so in the next moment
wiser counsels prevailed and I was considering the situation with the
seriousness which the facts demanded.
And first I had to ask myself what could be the red-bearded passenger’s
motive for booking to London, and then suddenly changing his plans and
getting out at an unimportant country station? Could it be that he was
indeed James Mullen, and that he was at his old tricks of covering up
his tracks?
If he had reason to believe himself shadowed from Southend, he could
have done nothing wiser than to alight at Hornchurch. A detective
who suspected the traveller’s identity and had watched him enter the
train at one end would in all probability telegraph to the police to
meet the train at the other end and effect an arrest. By getting out
at Hornchurch, Mullen would not only dodge this possible danger, but
would, so to speak, force his adversary to come out into the open,
for though shadowing can be carried on with small risk of detection
in London, where the person so engaged is only a unit in a crowd, a
shadower cannot possibly hope to escape notice in a country village.
Altogether I had to admit that, even if I had seen the red-bearded
man get out at Hornchurch in time for me to follow him, I should have
been uncertain how to act. Probably not more than two passengers
would be likely to leave the train at such a place, and it would be
comparatively easy for a man like Mullen to decide who had legitimate
business in the neighbourhood and who had not. Had I been one of these
passengers I should have brought myself under his direct notice, and
this I was anxious to avoid, as it was quite possible that, in order
to obtain evidence of his identity, circumstances might render it
necessary for me to come in personal contact with him.
So far as I knew, he was at that time unaware of my connection with
Green and Quickly, whose action in constituting themselves private
detectives he might reasonably suppose had been taken upon their own
responsibility, and in the hope of enriching themselves by obtaining
the offered reward.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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