"Why," chortled Bones, "isn't it my dear friend, Mr. Chenney?"
"Who are you," snarled Mr. Chenney, "and what do you mean by calling me
your dear friend? By Heavens, I'll have you kicked out of this
service!"
"Don't you know old Tibbetts?" cooed Bones. "Well, well, fancy meeting
you!"
He held out a grimy hand, which was not taken.
"Tibbetts!" growled the gentleman. "Oh, you are the foo--the gentleman
who bought the Lynhaven line, didn't you?"
"Certainly," said Bones.
"But what is your train doing here?" asked Mr. Chenney violently.
"Don't you realise you are holding up a special? Great Heavens, man,
this is very serious! You are holding up the business of the country!"
The engine-driver of the special came to the rescue.
"There's a switch-over about half a mile further on," he said.
"There's not a down train due for an hour. I'll unlock the switch and
put you on to the other line, and, after we have passed, you can come
on."
"But I don't want to come on, dear old thing," said Bones. "I want to
go back."
"Well, that's simple," said the driver.
He it was who piloted the Lynhaven express for another half-mile up the
road. He it was who found the switches, unlocked them, telegraphed to
the next station to hold up traffic, and he it was--Bones insisted upon
this--who brought the "Mary Louisa" along the switch to the down line.
The position was as follows: The "Mary Louisa" was on the down line.
Two coaches were between the down and the up line, and the guard's van
was exactly on the up line, when the "Mary Louisa" refused to work any
further.
Neither the experienced engine-driver, nor Bones, nor the stoker of the
special, nor Mr. Chenney, nor the ancient guard, could coax the "Mary
Louisa" to move another yard. The Lynhaven express stretched across
both lines and made all further progress for traffic impossible.
Three hours later a breakdown gang arrived and towed the "Mary Louisa"
and her appendages back to Bayham Junction.
Bones and the girl went back to London by the last train, and Bones was
very thoughtful and silent.
But Bones was ever an optimist. The next morning he saw on a newspaper
placard: "Birthday Honours. Twenty-two New Knights." And he actually
stopped his car, bought a paper, and searched the lists for his name.
It was not there.