XIII
ROBBERY; AMERICAN FASHION
"Tickets, please."
The guard took the one offered by Fandor.
"Excuse me, sir, there's a mistake here," he said.
"This train doesn't go to Marseilles?"
"The train, yes, but not the last carriage in which you are, for it isbound for Pontarlier, and will be slipped at Lyons from this express."
Fandor was nonplussed. The essential was to follow Josephine, ensconcedin the compartment next to his.
"Well, I'll get into another carriage when we are off; it's so easy withthe corridors."
"You can't do that, sir," insisted the guard. "While all the carriagesfor Marseilles in the front of the train communicate, this one isseparated from them by a baggage car."
"Then I'll change later, during the night. I have till Dijon, haven'tI?"
"You have."
The guard went away. Fandor suddenly asked himself:
"Has Josephine made a mistake, too? Or has she a definite purpose inbeing in a carriage which is to be slipped from the Southern Express atDijon to go on toward the Swiss frontier?"
The guard was looking at tickets in Josephine's compartment. Fandor wentnear to listen; he heard the tail of a conversation between the fairtraveller, her companion and the guard. The latter declared as hewithdrew:
"Exactly so, you shall not be disturbed."
When Josephine had boarded the train, Fandor had not ventured to watchher too closely, nor the companion she had met on the platform at thelast moment. He now decided to take advantage of the corridor to take alook at the man.
He was quite stout, rather common in appearance, although with aprosperous air. A man of middle age, whose jolly face was framed in abeard, giving him the look of an old mariner. Moreover, he was one-eyed.
Josephine was playful, full of smiles and amiability, but also somewhatabsent-minded.
The pair had decidedly the appearance of being lovers.
Although it was quite early, passengers were arranging to pass the nightas comfortably as possible. The lamps had been shaded with their littleblue curtains, and the portieres, facing the corridors, had been drawn.
Fandor returned to his compartment. Two corners of it were alreadyoccupied--the two furthest away from the corridor. One was in possessionof a man about forty, with a waxed moustache, having the air of anofficer in mufti, the other was taken by a young collegian with a waxencomplexion.
The journalist determined to keep awake, but scarcely had he settledhimself when drowsiness crept over him. Rocked by the regular motion ofthe train he sank into a slumber troubled by nightmares. Then suddenlyhe sprang up. He had the clear impression of some one brushing by himand opening the door to the corridor.
"Who is there?" he murmured in a voice thick with sleep and drowned bythe rush of the train. No one answered him. He staggered out into thecorridor. At the far end of the carriage a passenger, with a long blackbeard, was standing smoking a cigar, and apparently studying the murkycountry. Not a sound came from Josephine's apartment. With a shrug ofhis shoulders and cursing his fears, Fandor returned to his own seat.
Why should he fancy, because he was following Josephine, that all thepassengers in the train were cut-throats and accomplices of Loupart'smistress? Yet, five minutes after these sage reflections, Fandor startedagain; he had distinctly seen, passing along the corridor, two fellowswith villainous faces and suspicious demeanour. One of them cast intoFandor's compartment such a murderous glance that it made thejournalist's heart palpitate.
Fandor glanced at his companions. The officer was sleeping soundly, butthe young fellow, although keeping perfectly still, opened his eyes fromtime to time and cast uneasy glances about him, then pretended to sleepas soon as he caught Fandor watching him.
The train slackened speed; they were entering Laroche Station; there wasa stop to change engines. The officer suddenly awoke and got out. Thecompartment holding Josephine and her companion was thrown open, and,strange to say, his neighbour, the collegian, had moved into it, sittingjust opposite the stout gentleman.
Fandor, with a view to keeping awake, abandoned his comfortable seat andsettled himself in one of the hammocks in the corridor. He chose theone just opposite Josephine's door. But so great was his weariness thathe quickly fell into a deep sleep. Suddenly a violent shock sent himrolling to the cross-seat in Josephine's compartment. As he pickedhimself up in a dazed condition, a cry of terror broke from his lips.Three inches from his head was the muzzle of a revolver held by a bigruffian wearing a mask, who cried:
"Hands up, all!"
Fandor and his companions were too amazed to immediately obey, and thecommand came again, more forcible.
"Hands up, and don't stir or I'll blow out your brains."
And now a gnome-like individual appeared, also masked.
The first one turned to Josephine: "You, woman, out of here!"
Without betraying by her expression whether or no she was hisaccomplice, Josephine hurriedly left her place and, slipping between thegnome and the colossus, went and cowered down at the end of thecarriage.
"Go on!" suddenly commanded the big ruffian, who seemed to be theleader. "Go on! rifle 'em!"
The gnome, with wonderful adroitness, ransacked the coat and waistcoatpockets of the traveller. The stout man, shaking with alarm, made noresistance. After relieving him of his watch and pocketbook, they forcedhim to undo his shirt. Around his waist he wore a broad leather belt.
"Go it, Beaumome, relieve him of his burden, the fat jackass!"
From the body of the traveller, the stolen belt passed to the big maskedrobber, who weighed the prize complacently. The belt contained pocketsstuffed with gold and bank notes. The two robbers then moved away towardthe further end of the carriage.
Fandor, furious at being tricked like the simplest of greenhorns,determined to seize the occasion to give the alarm.
The emergency bell was immediately above the pale-faced collegian. Witha bound the journalist sprang for it, but fell back with a loud cry ashe felt a sharp pain in his hand. The collegian had leaped up andcruelly bitten his finger. So great was the pain that Fandor swooned fora few seconds, and that gave his assailant time to cross the compartmentand reach the corridor. At this moment the express slackened its speedand slowly came to a standstill.
"Is it too high to jump?"
Fandor knew the voice: it was Josephine's.
"No," answered some one. "Let yourself go. I'll catch you."
The sound of heavy shoes on the footboard told him that the robbers weremaking off. Josephine went with them, so she was their accomplice. Thejournalist sprang into the corridor to rush in pursuit. But he recoiled.A shot rang out, the glass fell broken before him, and a bulletflattened above his head in the woodwork.
It now seemed to him that the train was gradually gathering way again.Fandor put his head through the broken glass and searched the darknessoutside.
"Ah!" he cried in amazement. There was no longer a train on the track,or rather, the main body of the train was vanishing in the distance,while the carriage in which he was and the rear baggage car had pulledup. Apparently the robbers had broken the couplings.
At the moment, the stout man, having quite recovered, drew near Fandorand observed the situation.
"Why, we're backing! We're backing!" he bellowed with alarm.
"Naturally, we're going down a slope," calmly replied Fandor. The othergroaned and wrung his hands.
"It's appalling! The Simplon express is only twelve minutes behind us!"
Fandor now realized the frightful danger. Without delay he made for thecarriage door, ready to jump and risk breaking his bones rather thanface the terrible crash which seemed inevitable. But before he couldmake up his mind to the leap, a grinding noise became audible. The guardin the baggage car had applied the Westinghouse brakes and in a fewminutes they came to a stop.
Fandor and the stout gentleman sprang frantically out of the carriage,and two brakemen
jumped from the baggage car, crying: "Get away! Saveyourselves!"
Clambering over the ties, they jumped a hedge, floundered in a hole fullof water, scratching their hands and tearing their clothes; they rolleddown a grassy slope, stuck in a ploughed field, then dropped to theground, motionless, as a fearful din burst like thunder on the hush ofthe night. The Simplon express, racing at full speed, had crashed intothe two carriages left on the rails and smashed them to bits, while theengine and forward carriages of the train were telescoped.