it. I wanted to spring to the window and pull the
communication-cord. Quite a simple thing to do. Nothing easier than
to stop a train. You just give a sharp pull, and the train slows down,
comes to a standstill. And the guard appears at your window. You
explain to the guard.

"Nothing easier than to tell him there is going to be a collision.
Nothing easier than to insist that you and your friends and every other
passenger in the train must get out at once. There ARE easier things
than this? Things that need less courage than this? Some of THEM I
could have done, I dare say. This thing I was going to do. Oh, I was
determined that I would do it--directly.

"I had said all I had to say about Brett's hands. I had brought my
entertainment to an end. I had been thanked and complimented all
round. I was quite at liberty. I was going to do what I had to do. I
was determined, yes.

"We were near the outskirts of London. The air was gray, thickening;
and Dorothy Elbourn had said: 'Oh, this horrible old London! I suppose
there's the same old fog!' And presently I heard her father saying
something about 'prevention' and 'a short act of Parliament' and
'anthracite.' And I sat and listened and agreed and--"

Laider closed his eyes. He passed his hand slowly through the air.

"I had a racking headache. And when I said so, I was told not to talk.
I was in bed, and the nurses were always telling me not to talk. I was
in a hospital. I knew that; but I didn't know why I was there. One
day I thought I should like to know why, and so I asked. I was feeling
much better now. They told me by degrees that I had had concussion of
the brain. I had been brought there unconscious, and had remained
unconscious for forty-eight hours. I had been in an accident--a
railway-accident. This seemed to me odd. I had arrived quite safely
at my uncle's place, and I had no memory of any journey since that. In
cases of concussion, you know, it's not uncommon for the patient to
forget all that happened just before the accident; there may be a blank
for several hours. So it was in my case. One day my uncle was allowed
to come and see me. And somehow, suddenly, at sight of him, the blank
was filled in. I remembered, in a flash, everything. I was quite
calm, though. Or I made myself seem so, for I wanted to know how the
collision had happened. My uncle told me that the engine-driver had
failed to see a signal because of the