About ten minutes to five, we were collecting our scattered things,
and putting our front-hair straight by the mirror in the ladies'
compartment.

"Well, Miss Cheriton," I said warmly, longing to kiss her as I
spoke, "I shall never forget how kind you two have been to me. I do
wish so much I hadn't to leave you like this. But it's quite
inevitable. I don't see really how I could ever endure--"

I said no more, for just at that moment, as the words trembled on my
lips, a terrible jar thrilled suddenly through the length and
breadth of the carriage. Something in front seemed to rush into us
with a deep thud. There was a crash, a fierce grating, a dull hiss,
a clatter. Broken glass was flying about. The very earth beneath the
wheels seemed to give way under us. Next instant, all was blank. I
just knew I was lying, bruised and stunned and bleeding, on a bare
dry bank, with my limbs aching painfully.

I guessed what it all meant. A collision, no doubt. But I lay faint
and ill, and knew nothing for the moment as to what had become of my
fellow-passengers.






CHAPTER XVII.

A STRANGE RECOGNITION