It was just
at broad day. He had struck the light, and had the lamp in his hand.
As the engine came out of the tunnel, his back was towards her, and
she cut him down. That man drove her, and was showing how it happened.
Show the gentleman, Tom."
The man, who wore a rough, dark dress, stepped back to his former place
at the mouth of the tunnel.
"Coming round the curve in the tunnel, sir," he said, "I saw him at
the end, like as if I saw him down a perspective-glass. There was no
time to check speed, and I knew him to be very careful. As he didn't
seem to take heed of the whistle, I shut it off when we were running
down upon him, and called to him as loud as I could call."
"What did you say?"
"I said, Below there! Look out! Look out! For God's sake, clear the
way!"
I started.
"Ah! it was a dreadful time, sir. I never left off calling to him. I
put this arm before my eyes, not to see, and I waved this arm to the
last; but it was no use."
* * * * *
Without prolonging the narrative to dwell on any one of its curious
circumstances more than on any other, I may, in closing it, point out
the coincidence that the warning of the Engine-Driver included, not
only the words which the unfortunate signal-man had repeated to me as
haunting him, but also the words which I myself--not he--had attached,
and that only in my own mind, to the gesticulation he had imitated.
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