THE OUTLET
For over six months Marshfielden was by the “Light”. The were settling and work had again in earnest. Alan had been promoted second at the mine, and as he had a way with the men, those under him and well. Traces of were left on every one’s face. It was to them in a months; years would not away the that had come into their lives.
The little village was opened up now. Motors its streets, and the so allowed themselves to “modernized” that the “Teas provided here” be in nearly every window the street.
The of so many them the “Curse” and as once they in it, now they just as that the that had come upon them were by some agency. These six months of peace and they were of the future. Inspector Vardon left the place, and nothing to them of the terrible past.
Then they up once more to sorrow. Two were to be missing, and with them the little boy who them. The “Light” had returned!
Once more voices were and were gravely, as every one talked of the tragedy. A week passed, then Mrs. Skeet disappeared, and a days later Mary Slater. The place again with 43detectives; the papers were again alive with the of the tragedies.
The men in the mine silently; the only thing to the was the of the on the seams, or the of the up and the roads. Each to think of the that might him when he his home at the end of his day’s work.
The dinner hour came round, and each man sat and glum, his and meat, and only a now and again to his particular chum.
Suddenly there came a roar; the men rose to their in haste. They only too well that sound—it was familiar to them all.
Mr. Dickson appeared, his ashen. “An in the South Road,” said he. “Rescue parties to work at once.”
In an was but the one to help their in distress. With and and they the main road, just at the of which a of out suddenly, the man, and setting his on fire.
In they played on the flames—it was useless. The fire had too much power. The were to the at the of the shaft, and all had to above. Another had come upon the people of Marshfielden—their cup was full to overflowing as it was, yet Tragedy, the Humourist, was not yet with his handiwork.
For two days the fire raged, and the were in the of such odds; on the third it to a party to descend. Gradually they the flames, but not a of the men who had been like in a when the came. So Marshfielden was again in mourning, and broken-hearted and children to the little service that was for the ones.
Alan was horror-stricken at the that had 44befallen the mine. The of the men who had been to death on his mind; it was his of such an accident, and it left upon him an mark.
The mine was once more in order, and he was doing some in the office below, when a voice him. It was the voice of Mr. Dickson, and very grave.
“Go at once to the third shaft, Forsyth,” said he. “The telephone has failed, and Daniels has reported that there is something with the air there.”
“What? In the engine house?”
“Yes. We can no information. Make a examination, and if you any danger, order the shift off and close the gates.”
“Very good,” and Alan, to have something to do that would his mind, left the office, and jumped on to one of the empty that was being by the to the second shaft, and would take him very near his destination. At the second there were faces.
“Something at number three shaft, sir,” said one of the men. “Daniels ’phoned us, but he tell us anything definite, the down.”
“Thanks,” said Alan shortly. “How many men are there?”
“None, sir. They’ve not been it to-day. Daniels and two other men have been a that has appeared in the roof, and were to have it up with supports.” Mechanically Alan walked the low road that to the third shaft. He pushed the that across the roadways, and the of air from in the direction, and as he passed through each one, he the air eagerly.
At last! The sickly, came up from the distance. It was one he and feared—a gas. The very low, and Alan had almost to on his hands and knees, for there was no room for him to upright. Cramped, 45aching, he his way along the narrow roadway. Suddenly he gave a of relief; the rose to ten feet, and the road out into a vault-like chamber, twenty square. He a in the distance. “Help! Help!” It was Daniels—Daniels who came in and on the ground him.
“Mr. Forsyth,” he muttered, “run—save yourself—Rutter is dead—The is terrible. There’s danger,” and as he spoke there came a and a flash, a terrible of falling—and Alan that the little had a vault, for the of the had the on either in, and the entrance at each end was up completely.
“Too late,” Daniels weakly. “I couldn’t here before.” He at his belt, and Alan over him gently. “Water—water,” he cried, and Alan the that was across his shoulders, and took from it a bottle of cold tea.
But as he put it to the of the man, there came another in the distance, and Daniels back—dead.
Once more the was heard—once more an had in the mine. This time there was little fire—only water—water everywhere.
“Where is Mr. Alan?” asked the manager hoarsely. “Has he returned from the third shaft?”
“No, sir.”
“Then he is in the of the danger. Rescue parties at once.” But all these were in vain. It was water this time—water that the men to the mouth of the pit.
Pumps were put in order, and for hours the men to clear the mine, but when at last they were able to near the spot where the accident took place—they, as they feared, no of Alan.
From the second the mine was in such a complete of and ruin, that it would take it was possible to near the third and the original of the disaster. So 46once more a list was sent out, and this time was by the name
“Alan Forsyth”.
Sir John the news with a set face. First Desmond, now Alan had been taken from him.
“Don’t take it so to heart, Mr. Dickson,” said he kindly. “The boy was doing his when death him.”
“I am broken-hearted, Sir John,” said Mr. Dickson. “I that it was I who him to his doom. If I hadn’t sent him to the third that day, he would be with us still.”
“It is fate,” said Sir John simply.
But when he his office next day, he told Masters to him his will from the safe. With he it across, the pieces in the fire and it burn. Then he said quietly, “I must make a new will, Masters. But to shall I my money? There is no one to me now.” Suddenly he took up pen and paper and hurriedly. “Fetch a clerk, Masters,” said he, and when a appeared he added quietly, “I want you to my to my will,” and with his name, and passed the paper over to Masters, making no to what he had written.
And Masters’ as he read—
“Everything I to the ‘Miners’ Fund’ for and orphans, such by in the mine.”
When Alan from the of the explosion, he his lamp was still dimly, and that he had a in his legs. He was with débris from to and from the and that was all about. With he himself, and that Daniels was buried.
Alone in the little chamber, a to 47came over him, and he moved away from the form, now in coal. Scarcely the position he was in, he back, and his eyes, his out nerves gave way, and he asleep. He up with a start some hours later; his watch had stopped and he had no idea of the time. Madness to be over him; his was flushed, his throbbed. He was hungry, and to the man’s and about until he the that Daniel’s dinner, and the bottle of cold tea. There was not a great of food—half a loaf, thick slices of beef, a piece of and some apple tart.
Alan ate sparingly, for although his for more, he that not yet was his hour of need, and that later on he would need the food still more.
When he had finished, he took up a and at the exit, but only the replied, laughing at his impotence. Flinging his tool he his in his hands and in despair. His left him calmer, and he for the time to think out a plan of escape. He that parties would be hard for his release—but they him in time?
There was around him a death-like stillness, and he that the was from the of the shaft. Then he where the air came from. There must be an somewhere, he thought, for the air he was breathing, although stuffy, was pure. He walked the up chamber—round and round—but there was a weak spot. He sat and to think coherently, and laughed in his agony, as he he would go mad. He looked up suddenly, and in his that the was trying to with the floor. He the place, able to keep his in his wild that the was moving, and laughed as he against a piece of coal, and the had got him at last. Then he a little, 48and in the semi-darkness the of Daniels to from the place where it lay, and point at him a finger.
In terror, Alan to the of the little chamber, his distorted, his trembling. He the come nearer—nearer—its long claw-like were almost on his flesh—“Ah!” he shrieked—the were him with a cold, touch. He to move forward—with the of the man pressed to his forehead. He walked onward—then his brain gave way entirely, and with another wild shriek, he to the in unconsciousness.
When he recovered, his from him much of the past. His had abated, but he for water. His mouth was parched. He to the where the Daniels had his food, and out the bottle of tea. There was very little left, but to take away the of his thirst. A newspaper that had been used to up some of the food slightly. It him and he looked nervously. Again it moved, and to be up by some hand.
He it fascinated, then his up. “A draught,” he triumphantly. “Then it is from that direction I must try and secure my release!” With energy he to at the coal, in the fast light of his lantern. Tirelessly he worked, until success met his and he had a big to through, came the of waters.
He his above his in his to where he was, and its upon a flowing, river that through a on either side. The place he was in was very small and had no by way of the water.
The river was narrow, four wide at the most, but with a so that Alan, good though he was, would not have trust 49himself to its cruel-looking depths. Mechanically he into the water a of coal. There was a splash—but no came to tell him that it had the bottom. He in his pockets, and a of string. Tying a piece of to one end he it into the rapids, but his arm was up to his in the river, and yet the had not touched the bottom.
He looked at the water curiously, and his in the fluid. Suddenly a pain in his hand him it out quickly, and by the light of the he saw it was with blood. As he it clean he saw the of two teeth on his and third fingers. Slowly his moved and he murmured—“There is animal life in this river then—I wonder it leads—can there be near too?”
His was nearly out, and by its he to fashion himself a raft, upon which he trust himself to the waters. A trolley, by the of the explosion, near him. The had been off and it was all in pieces. He looked at it carefully. The piece was with of one end still in position. He it critically. Would it float? Well he must that. He it would, and the end piece would as a to keep him on safely.
He was faint—he ate the of his food, and with a at the place where Daniels lay, he pushed the out on to the waters. Lightly he jumped on it himself, and, with a tight on the pieces of wood, gave himself up to the of the torrent.
His out; the was intense; there was no but the of the and the of the against the of the tunnel. The was than anything he had known. The water just along at a speed, over the and Alan to the skin. He was faint. In a way he of his life—how empty it had been. Where was Desmond—and Uncle John? Cambridge 50came his eyes, and he almost see the picture of the “backs” with their and beyond.
He stiff. Mechanically he on to the raft, when his left him; and the with its of humanity, on, into the depths, by the river that was and through the earth.
Suddenly the gave a still more jerk, and Alan to life once more. The were over at last, and he was along in that were as now as they had been fast.
The widened, and he was aware that the had gone, and in its place there was a light that was to his eyes. As the to out, a path off at either of the water.
The on and at last a in a little, natural out in the bank. Alan on land at last, his reeling. He had no idea of the time that had passed since he started on that journey, and he hungry, weak and tired.
Slowly he walked along the river bank, and the lights stronger—then voices came upon his ear, and as he toward the unknown that him, above in Marshfielden, the was saying—
“And for the of Alan Forsyth—lately dead.”
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BOOK II
THE UNDERWORLD
53
