"As good as nothing," answered Margaret Jupp. "That is, of late years. Papa and mamma used to know old Mr. and Mrs. Finch. He was a lawyer somewhere in London, and Angeline was the daughter." "Angeline!" "That's her name. Isn't it a fine one?" "Very," said Mr. Lake. "The baptismal people must have foreseen she was destined to be a Begum." The arrival at Coombe Dalton interrupted the conversation. Slackening its speed, the train came to a standstill. They inquired of a porter how long it stayed, and understood him to say "ten" minutes. So they got out, and heard almost immediately the train puff on again. The man had said "two." Looking at each other in consternation, a laugh ensued. The next train came up at three o'clock, and they could only wait. Plenty of time now to examine the scene of the accident. They were not the only spectators. The battered engine, the _débris_ of the carriages were there still--not on the line, but drawn away from it. "In shunting some trucks on to the other line, one of them broke down, and could not be got off before our train came up," explained Oliver Jupp. "The engine ran into it, and--we were done for." "But how dreadfully careless of the people at the station to allow your engine to run into it!" exclaimed Margaret. "They ought to have signalled your train to stop." "They did signal it," interrupted a strange voice at her elbow, and Margaret turned to see the stationmaster, who was known to her brother and Mr. Lake. "The red lights were exhibited at the station, and a switchman waved the red signal light up and down, all to no purpose. You observe that post," he added, pointing to an iron post or pillar close to them, for he perceived she looked as if she scarcely understood him: "that is the night signal-post. When the line is clear, a green light is exhibited on it, as a notice that the trains may pass; but when it is not clear, a red light is substituted, and no train must proceed when the red light is there. Not only was the red light shown there last night, but the switchman, alarmed at the train's coming on so quickly, seized it, and waved it to enforce attention. The driver took no notice, and came dashing on to destruction." "Was he killed?" inquired one of the bystanders, a knot of whom had gathered round. "No," replied the stationmaster; "and his escape is regarded as next door to a miracle. He was flung from the engine, lay motionless, and was carried off for dead; but it appears he was only stunned, and is nearly well this morning. He'll have to stand his trial, of course; and a good thing for him if they don't bring it in 'Wilful Murder'--for that's what some of these careless engine-drivers will come to one day." The official spoke with a good deal of acrimony. If the blame did not lie with the driver, it lay with _him_, and some hot dispute had been going on already that morning. "Does the driver deny that the red light was up?" asked Mr. Lake.