39
Giles and Harry were directed to another third-class carriage, but they were both so tired that despite the frequent opening and closing of carriage doors during the night, the clattering of the wheels over points and the regular blast of the train’s whistle, they slept soundly.
Giles woke with a start as the train pulled into Newcastle a few minutes before six. He looked out of the window to be greeted by a dull grey day and the sight of lines of soldiers waiting to board the train. A sergeant saluted a second lieutenant who didn’t look much older than Giles and asked, ‘Permission to board the train, sir?’ The young man returned his salute and replied in a softer voice, ‘Carry on, sergeant,’ and the soldiers began to file on to the train.
The ever-present threat of war, and the question of whether he and Harry would be in uniform before they had the chance to go up to Oxford, was never far from Giles’s mind. His uncle Nicholas, whom he’d never met, an officer just like the young man on the platform, had led a platoon of soldiers and been cut down at Ypres. Giles wondered what would be the names of the battlefields that would be commemorated with poppies every year if there was to be another Great War to end all wars.
His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a passing reflection in the carriage window. He swung round, but the figure was no longer there. Had Captain Tarrant’s warning caused him to overreact, or was it just a coincidence?
Giles looked across at Harry, who was still sound asleep, but then he probably hadn’t slept for the past two nights. As the train shunted into Berwick-on-Tweed, Giles noticed the same man walking past their compartment. Just a glance, and he was gone; no longer a coincidence. Was he checking to see which station they got off at?
Harry finally woke, blinked and stretched his arms. ‘I’m starving,’ he said.
Giles leant over and whispered, ‘I think there’s someone on this train who’s following us.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Harry, suddenly wide awake.
‘I’ve seen the same man pass our carriage once too often.’
‘Tickets please!’
Giles and Harry handed their warrants to the ticket collector. ‘How long does this train stop at each station?’ he asked once the man had clipped them.
‘Now, that all depends on whether we’re runnin’ on time or not,’ he replied a little wearily, ‘but never less than four minutes is the company regulation.’
‘What is the next station?’ asked Giles.
‘Dunbar. We should be there in about thirty minutes. But you’ve both got warrants for Mulgelrie,’ he added before moving on to the next compartment.
‘What was all that about?’ asked Harry.
‘I’m trying to find out if we’re being followed,’ said Giles, ‘and the next part of my plan will involve you.’
‘What role will I be playing this time?’ said Harry, sitting on the edge of his seat.
‘Certainly not Romeo,’ said Giles. ‘When the train stops at Dunbar, I want you to get off while I watch if anyone follows you. Once you’re on the platform, walk quickly towards the ticket barrier, then turn back, go into the waiting room and buy a cup of tea. Don’t forget you’ve only got four minutes to be back on board before the train sets off again. And whatever you do, don’t look back, or he’ll know we’re on to him.’
‘But if there is someone following us, surely he’ll be more interested in you than me?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Giles, ‘and certainly not if Captain Tarrant is right, because I have a feeling your friend knows more than he’s willing to admit.’
‘That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,’ said Harry.
Half an hour later, the train shuddered to a halt in Dunbar. Harry opened the carriage door, stepped out on to the platform and headed for the exit.
Giles caught no more than a glimpse of the man as he hurried after Harry.
‘Got you,’ Giles said, then leant back and closed his eyes, confident that once the man realized Harry had only got off to buy a cup of tea, he would look in his direction just to make sure he hadn’t also left the carriage.
Giles opened his eyes again when Harry returned to the compartment holding a bar of chocolate.
‘Well,’ said Harry, ‘did you spot anyone?’
‘Sure did,’ said Giles. ‘In fact, he’s just getting back on the train.’
‘What does he look like?’ asked Harry, trying not to sound anxious.
‘I only caught a glimpse of him,’ said Giles, ‘but I’d say he’s around forty, a little over six foot, smartly dressed, with very short hair. The one thing you can’t miss is his limp.’
‘So now we know what we’re up against, Sherlock, what next?’
‘First, Watson, it’s important to remember that we have several things going for us.’
‘I can’t think of one,’ said Harry.
‘Well, for a start, we know we’re being followed, but he doesn’t know we know. We also know where we’re going, which he clearly doesn’t. We’re also fit, and less than half his age. And with that limp, he won’t be able to move all that quickly.’
‘You’re rather good at this,’ said Harry.
‘I do have a built-in advantage,’ said Giles. ‘I am my father’s son.’