The inspector who had been on night duty at the time the train passed proved to be a very intelligent and observant man. He told the same story, that the rain was falling very heavily and that he had seen the distant lights of the gold special which had flown through the dark station at incredible pace. “Is it not a fact,” said Michael, “that it passed you before you realized it was gone?” The man was surprised. “That is so, sir. It seemed as though I had hardly seen the headlights come into the station before I saw the tail-lights going out.” “Did it whistle as it passed through?” “Yes, sir,” said the man, “a deafening whistle. I remarked to my porter at the time that it must be trying a new kind of siren. It made the most fiendish row and you could hear nothing else.” “It whistled through all the stations where there was somebody on duty,” said Michael turning to T.B. Smith. “It is a curious fact that at Stanborn Halt and Merchley which are closed for the night they made no noise at all. Was the station in darkness?” he said, turning to the inspector. “Practically so, sir,” said the man; “there was one light on the down platform where I was standing, but it was a very dark night and it was impossible to distinguish anything on the other platform. All that we saw was the flash of lights and the train had passed before one had realized that it had gone.” The inspector at Pinham Heights station had a similar story to tell. But the Tolbridge junction signalman and the Tolbridge assistant station-master did not report any whistle or any unusual happening. T.B. and Michael spent the night at Tolbridge and resumed their journey at daybreak. It was a slow and laborious business. Once between Pinham and Beckham Beacon, Michael had stopped the train and switched it on to a sidetrack. “Why is there a sidetrack here?” he asked. The railway official who accompanied him and who by this time was very weary of the whole business, explained vaguely that it was partly to provide a very necessary relief for any congestion on this section, and partly to connect up a “chalk pit or something” which now, however, was no longer used. Michael walked along the rusted rails for a quarter of a mile. They led toward a low line of hills about three miles away. Rank vegetation grew between the sleepers, for it had been many years since its private owners had taken the trouble to put this little branch line in working order. The road ended abruptly with a big buffer made of sleepers and behind this the rail drooped limply over a great hole as though there had been a subsidence of the earth. Michael turned back and joined T.B. “It could not have passed over here. The rail is rusty and runs into a large-sized hole at the other end,” said Michael in despair. “Well, go on, driver.”