Mr. Schofield also sat down, more astonished than ever. "See here, Welsh," he said, "you're not drunk?" "Hain't drunk a drop fer a matter o' tin year, Mr. Schofield. Th' effects wore off long ago." "He _is_ drunk, Mr. Schofield," broke in Nevins, quickly. "I smelt it on his breath. I'll have the law on him. He assaulted me out there in a ditch and nearly killed me. I'll see if a man's to be treated that way by a big, drunken bully--" But Mr. Schofield stopped him with a gesture. "That will do," he said, coldly. "Don't lie about it. I know that Welsh isn't drunk. We'll have his story first, and then yours. Fire away, Jack." "Well," began Jack, "jest as th' torpedy went off--" "Which torpedo?" "Why, th' one that th' special exploded." "Oh, begin further back than that--begin at the beginning." "Well, then, jest as I jammed th' torpedy on th' track--" "Was it _you_ put it on the track?" cried Mr. Schofield. "Why, sure," said Jack. "Didn't ye know that? Who else could it 'a' been?" "But how did you come to do that?" "Why," said Jack, "whin I heerd th' special whistling away off up th' line, an' th' signal showin' a clear track, an' knowed they was a freight comin' up th' grade, what else should I do but plant a torpedy? I didn't have time t' git t' th' office--besides, I knowed they was some diviltry on an' I wanted t' lay low till I could git Nolan--" "Nolan!" echoed the trainmaster, more and more amazed. "Sure, Nolan--Dan Nolan--you raymimber him. I thought it was him I had, an' mighty dissipinted I was whin I found my mistake. But I thought I'd better bring this feller along, anyhow, an' find out what it was he done when he raised th' windy there an' leaned in--" A flash of understanding sprang into Mr. Schofield's eyes, and he glanced quickly at Nevins. But the latter's face was turned away. "See here, Jack," said the trainmaster, leaning forward in his chair, "we'll never get anywhere in this way. I want you to begin at the very beginning and tell us the whole story." "Well, sir," said Jack, "I would, but I'm afeerd th' story'd be too long." "No, it wouldn't. We want to hear it." "All right, then," Jack agreed, and settled back in his chair. "Ye may as well set down, Misther Nevins," he added. "Yes, sit down," said Allan, moved with pity at the other's bedraggled and exhausted condition. He brought forward the box which served as washstand, and pressed Nevins gently down upon it. The latter resisted for a moment; then, suddenly, he collapsed in a heap upon the box and buried his face in his hands, his whole body shaken by a dry, convulsive sobbing. CHAPTER XV LIGHT IN DARK PLACES The paroxysm lasted only for a moment, then Nevins pulled himself together with a mighty effort, looking about him with a pitiful attempt at bravado. Mr. Schofield glanced at him, then turned his back, for Nevins's countenance, not engaging at any time, was now positively hideous. "Go ahead with your story, Welsh," he said.