Through the uproar, Eagles shouldered his way.
‘“Ere,” he said, “I’m an officer of the law. Stand aside, please.”
They stood aside, with the exception of a porter and another man, who were hauling out something between the train and the platform. An arm came up, and then a head-then the battered body of the third man, the one who had had the walking-stick. They laid him down on the platform bruised and bloody.
“Where’s the other?”
“Gone, poor chap.”
“Is that one dead?”
“Yes.”
“No, he ain’t.”
“Oh, Betty, I’m going to faint.”
“He’s all right-see! He’s opening his eyes.”
“Yes, but how about the other?”
“Do stop shoving.”
“Look out, that’s a policeman.”
“That’s the live rail down there.”
“Where’s a doctor? Send for a doctor.”
“Stand back, please. Stand right back.”
“Why don’t they shut off the electricity?”
“They have. That feller ran off to do it.”
“How’ll they get ’im out without moving the train?”
“Expect he’s all in little bits, pore chap.”
“That one tried to save ’im.”
“Looked as if he was took ill, or drunk-like.”
“Drunk, this time in the morning?”
“They ought to give ’im brandy.”
“Clear all this lot out,” said Eagles. “This one’ll do all right. The other’s done for, I suppose.”
“Smashed all to blazes. ’Orrible.”
“Then you can’t do him any good. Clear the station and get an ambulance and another police officer.”
“Right you are.”
“This one’s coming round,” put in the man who had helped to haul the victim up. “How are you feeling now, sir?”
“Bloody,” said the rescued man, faintly. Then, seeming to realize where he was, he added,
“What happened?”
“Why, sir, a poor gentleman fell off the platform and took you over with him,”
“Yes, of course. Is he all right?”
“Afraid he’s badly knocked about, sir. Ah!” as somebody ran up with a flask. “Take a pull at this, sir. Gently, you. Lift his head up. Don’t jerk him. Now then.”
“Ah!” said the man. “That’s better. All right. Don’t fuss. My spine’s all right and I don’t think anything’s broken to speak of.” He moved his arms and legs experimentally.
“Doctor’ll be here in a minute, sir.”
“Doctor be damned. I’m a doctor myself. Limbs all correct. Head apparently sound, though it aches like hell. Ribs-not so sure about those. Something gone there, I’m afraid. Pelvis intact, thank goodness.”
“Very glad to hear that,” said Eagles.
“It’s the footboard of the train that got me, I fancy. I remember being rolled round and round like a pat of butter between two whatsinames,” said the stranger, whose damaged ribs did not seem to impede his breathing altogether. “And I saw the wheels of the train get slower and stop, and I said to myself: ‘This is it. You’re for it, my lad. Time’s stopped and this is Eternity.’ But I see I was mistaken.”
“Happily so, sir,” said Eagles.
“Wish I’d been able to stop that other poor devil, though.”
“I’m sure you did your best, sir.” Eagles produced his notebook. “Excuse me, sir, but I’m a police-officer, and if you could manage to tell me just how it occurred-”
“Damned if I know myself,” replied the other. “All I know is, I was standing just about here when the fellow passed me.”
He paused, catching his breath a little. “I noticed he was looking rather queer. Heart subject, I should think. He suddenly stopped and staggered and then came towards me. I caught hold of his arm and then he lurched over with all his weight and dragged me over with him. And then I can’t remember anything but the noise of the train and the tremendous size of its wheels and the feeling of having the breath squeezed out of me. I must have dropped him, I suppose.”
“And no wonder,” said Eagles, sympathetically.
“My name’s Garfield,” went on the rescuer, “Dr. Herbert Garfield.” He gave an address in Kensington and another in Harley Street. “I think I see one of my professional brethren arriving, and he’ll probably say I’m not to talk.” He grinned faintly. “Anyhow, I shall be filed for reference for the next few weeks, if you want more information.”
PC. Eagles thanked Dr. Garfield, and then turned to the body of the man in the overcoat, which had by now been disentangled from between the wheels of the train and laid upon the platform. It was an unpleasant sight. Even Eagles, accustomed as he was to casualties, felt a violent distaste for the necessary job of searching the dead man’s pockets for evidence of identity. Curiously enough, he found none in the shape of visiting cards or papers. There was a note-case with a few pound-notes, a silver cigarette-case filled with a popular brand of Turks, a little loose change, an unmarked handkerchief, and an H.T. &V. latch-key. Moreover-and this pleased him very much-in the overcoat pocket was a little rubber cosh, such as is sold for use against motor-bandits. He was in the act of hunting over the suit for the tailor’s tab, when he was hailed by a local inspector of police, who had arrived with the ambulance.
Eagles was relieved to have the support of a colleague. He knew that he ought to get in touch with Sergeant Lumley and with Scotland Yard. An hour’s energetic action on the part of all resulted in a happy reunion at the nearest police-station, where, in fact, Lumley had already arrived, after depositing the unconscious Mr. Puncheon in hospital. Chief-Inspector Parker came hot-foot to Kensington, heard the statements of Lumley and Eagles, reviewed the scene of the disaster and the remains of the mysterious man in dress clothes, and was annoyed. When a man whom you have been elaborately chasing all over London has the impudence to be killed just as you are on the point of catching him, and turns out to have no tailor’s name on his clothes and nothing to identify him by; when, moreover, he has thoughtlessly permitted his face to be smashed into pulp by an electric train, so that you cannot usefully circulate his photograph for recognition, your satisfaction in feeling that there is something wrong about him is cancelled by the thought of the weary work that his identification is going to involve.
“There’s nothing for it,” said Chief-Inspector Parker, “but his laundry-mark, I suppose. And, of course, his dentistry, if any.”
Irritatingly enough, the deceased turned out to have an excellent set of teeth and at least three laundry-marks. Nor were his shoes helpful, being ready-made, though by an excellent and much-advertised firm. In fact, the wretched man had gone to meet his Maker in Parley’s Footwear, thus upholding to the last the brave assertion that, however distinguished the occasion, Parley’s Footwear will carry you through.
In this extremity, Mr. Parker-perhaps stimulated by the thought of Messrs. Parley’s advertising-rang up Pym’s Publicity and desired to speak with Mr. Bredon.
That gentleman was closeted with Mr. Armstrong when the call came through. Whifflets were causing trouble. The sales of Whifflets had been considerably affected by the publicity methods of a rival brand, Puffin Cigarettes. The manufacturers of Puffins had had a brain-wave. They were giving away aeroplanes. In every packet of Puffins they enclosed a coupon, bearing the name of a component part of a popular little touring ’plane, suitable for amateur use. When you had collected your complete set of parts (numbering one hundred) you sent up your coupons, together with a brief essay on the importance of air-mindedness for British boys. The writer of the best essay each day became the recipient of a private ’plane, and a course of free instruction enabling him or her to take out an air-pilot’s certificate. This happy scheme was supported by heavy advertising of a modern and stimulating kind: “The Future is with the Air-Minded”- “The Highest Flight in Modern Cigarette Manufacture”- “Puff Puffins, and Reach the Height of your Ambition”-and so forth. If you were incapacitated, by reason of age or infirmity, from enjoying the ownership of an aeroplane, you received instead a number of shares in the new issue of the Aeroplane Company involved. The scheme had the support of several notable airmen, whose faces, adorned with flying helmets, stared and grinned from every page of the press in conjunction with their considered opinions that Puffins were doing a valuable work in helping to establish British Supremacy in the Air.