While Loupart and his mates were making off across country the disasteroccurred. At a curve in the track the Simplon Express coming at fullspeed charged the cars and crushed them, then, lifted by the shock, theengine reared backwards on its wheels and fell heavily, dragging down inits fall a baggage car and the first two carriages coupled behind it.Then rose in the night cries of terror and the frantic rush of thepassengers who fled from the luxurious train.
Fandor picked himself up and went forward. From the tender of the enginea cloud of steam escaped with hoarse whistlings.
The driver held out his two broken arms.
"Give me a hand, for God's sake! Open the tap! There, that hoisted bar.Lift it up. Quick, the boiler is going to burst."
Fandor was still engaged in carrying out this manoeuvre when succourbegan to arrive.
The stoker, less seriously hurt than the driver, had managed to draghimself clear of the wreckage, which was beginning to catch fire. Thehead guard, and those passengers whose seats had been at the rear of thetrain, hurried up and the combined effort at rescue began. They searchedfor the injured and put out the incipient blazes.
Instinctively those who had fled from the train followed in a franticstampede the road at the foot of the embankment, reached Verrez villageout of breath and gave the alarm.
The countryside was soon in an uproar. Lights flashed, torches and lampsof vehicles harnessed in haste: a quarter of an hour after the disasterhalf the neighbourhood was afoot from all quarters.
"A bit of luck, sir," remarked the conductor, still pallid with horror,to Fandor, "that the collision happened at the curve where our speed wasslackened. Ten minutes sooner and all the carriages would have beentelescoped."
"Yes, it was luck," replied the journalist, as he wiped his face,covered with soot and coal dust. "The two carriages telescoped werealmost empty."
From a neighbouring way-station the railway officials had telephonednews of the accident. The section of line was kept clear by telegraph.Word came that a relief train was being made up, and would arrive in anhour.
Fandor had quickly regained his coolness, and was one of the first tolend a hand in the rescue, turning over the wreckage and setting freethe injured.
As he passed along the track, he was attracted by the appeals of a stoutman, who hurried toward him, wailing:
"Sir! Sir! What a terrible calamity!"
Fandor recognised his fellow-passenger, Josephine's lover.
"Yes, and we had a lucky escape. But what has become of your wife?"
In using the word "wife" Fandor was under no illusion; he merely wantedto interview the other.
"My wife? Ah, sir, that's the terrible part of it. She's not mywife--she's a little friend, and now it's all bound to come out. Mylawful wife will hear everything. As for the girl, I don't know what hasbecome of her."
"She knew that you were carrying money?"
"Yes, sir. I am an agent for wines at Bercy, and I was going to pay overdividends to stock-holders, one hundred and fifty thousand francs. Irecognised one of my men among the robbers, a cooper. He knew that everymonth I travel, carrying large sums of money. I am quite sure thisrobbery was planned beforehand."
"And who are you, sir?"
"M. Martialle, of Kessler & Barries. Fortunately the money is not lost."
"Not lost! You know where to find the robbers?"
"That I do not, but they have only the halves of the notes. These areworth nothing to them unless they can lay their hands on thecorresponding halves. It's a way of cheap insurance."
"And where are the other halves of the notes?"
"Oh, in a safe place, in the office of the firm at Bercy."
Fandor abruptly left M. Martialle and approached an official.
"When will the line be cleared?"
"In an hour's time, sire."
"There'll be no train for Paris till then?"
"No, sir."
Fandor moved off along the track.
"That's all right, I can make it. I'll have time to send a wire to _TheCapital_."
The journalist sat down on the grass, took out his writing-pad and beganhis article. But he had overrated his strength. He was worn out, bodyand soul. He had not been writing ten minutes when he dropped into adoze, the pencil slipped from his fingers and he was fast asleep.
* * * * *
When Fandor opened his eyes, the twilight was beginning to come down. Itwas between five and six o'clock.
"What a fool I've been! I've made a mess of the whole business now," hecried as he ran frantically to the nearest station.
"How soon the first train to Paris?"
"In two minutes, sir: it is signalled."
"When does it arrive?"
"At ten o'clock."
Fandor threw up his hands.
"I shall be too late. I haven't time to wire Juve and warn him. Oh! whatan idiot I was to sleep like that!"