I had a vague idea of despatching some sort of report to Ellen that I
had not been entirely washed away, and obtaining a similar comfort as
to her own fate. I little thought how I should need him.

I think I am not by nature more timid than other men, but as the dismal
evening closed in I took from my desk two revolvers kept ready for
possible emergencies, and laid one upon the desk where I was making
freight entries and the other on the table where the electric battery
stood. At intervals a fresh package for the night express was brought
by some dripping carrier, who deposited it, got his receipt, hung about
for a few minutes, then hastened away to more comfortable quarters.

Still the rain poured in torrents. It must have been nearly nine o'clock
when a wagon, hurriedly driven, pulled up suddenly at the platform. In a
moment the door was flung open, and I saw a small ambulance well known
about the village. Two men sprang out, and with the help of the driver
and his assistant, proceeded to lift out a box which from its dimensions
could contain only one kind of freight, to wit, the remains of a human
being.

Carefully placing this box in a remote corner of the room, near other
boxes awaiting transportation, the driver and his man returned to their
wagon, while the two strangers approached the desk to enter their
ghastly freight. They wore slouched hats and were very wet. They
produced a death certificate of one John Slate, who had died at a farm
house several miles away, of a non-contagious complaint, and was to be
shipped to his friends down the road. This was all. There was nothing
singular about it, and yet when the door closed upon the strangers and
I was again alone, or worse than alone a feeling of awe came over me.
Clearly the storm had somewhat unstrung me.