Death in the Tunnel by Miles Burton Page B

shopping,” she said. “Now that they’ve reduced the price of day tickets, we always travel first. It’s so much more comfortable, and it isn’t a very great extravagance. We got to Cannon Street about ten minutes to five, and looked for seats in the train. We never go in smoking carriages if we can help it, for they always seem more crowded. And we found a non-smoker, with only one old gentleman in it.
    â€œHe was sitting in the corner seat next to the corridor, facing the engine, and he had put a newspaper in the opposite seat. He kept looking out on to the platform, and then at his watch. He was obviously expecting somebody, we could see that. He got very perturbed as the time came for the train to start, but nobody came. And when the train began to move, we heard him mutter, ‘Dear, dear, she’s missed it again!’ Didn’t we, Betty?”
    â€œYes, we certainly did,” replied Miss Clutsam. “The poor old boy seemed very much annoyed, or disappointed, perhaps. But after a minute or two he took his paper from the opposite seat, and began to read it.”
    â€œHe read it for quite a long time,” her mother chimed in. “I noticed that he seemed very nearsighted, for he held it close to his eyes. Then, after a while, he took out a cigarette-case, chose a cigarette, and was just going to light it when he remembered that he was in a non-smoker. He held the unlighted cigarette and looked at it in such a funny way that I couldn’t help laughing. And then I said to him, ‘Please light your cigarette. We don’t mind a bit.’ Didn’t I, Betty?”
    â€œI don’t think he liked being laughed at,” replied Miss Clutsam. “He mentioned something about not thinking of inconveniencing us, and that he could easily find a seat in a smoking carriage. And with that he got up and tottered off.”
    â€œWe were passing through a station at the time. Blackdown, I think it must have been. And we never saw him again.”
    â€œI wonder if you could describe him, Mrs. Clutsam?” Arnold asked.
    â€œOh, I should think he must have been about seventy. He was wearing a heavy dark brown overcoat, and he had a short grey beard. I couldn’t see much of his face, for he held the paper so close to it. But it seemed to me very much wrinkled.”
    â€œHe had a hooked nose, and reminded me of a parrot,” said Miss Clutsam.
    â€œHe stooped as he walked, and seemed very tottery on his legs. I told mother that it was a shame to have laughed at him, since it had driven him out of the carriage.”
    Neither of the ladies could add anything to this. The two inspectors and Merrion left the house and returned to the police-station. “Now, I’ll carry on the story,” said Marden. “As soon as I heard about this old man with the short grey beard, I went round the rest of the passengers again. None of them had seen him. Neither he nor anybody else had entered any of the compartments after the train had left Cannon Street. No stranger, I mean. Three or four of the passengers had left their seats to go to the lavatory, but they had all returned to them.
    â€œThen I went to the railway station, and questioned our friend Cutbush and his merry men. Cutbush is perfectly certain that nobody answering to that description was in the coach when it arrived here. Being thorough by nature, he had ascertained that there was nobody in either of the lavatories. The ticket-collector is equally certain that the old man with the short grey beard did not pass the barrier. Having been here for many years, he knew nearly all the passengers by sight, and he is quite certain that this man was not among them. Now, what about it?”
    Arnold shook his head. “It beats me,” he replied. “It seems to me that very remarkable things happen on this line of yours. I’ll tell you what Mr. Merrion and I found yesterday.”
    Marden listened with