Andrew Martin - The Necropolis Railway

They also all lived in fear of being taken in for the murder of Henry Taylor, because they knew they all had reason to have done it. Taylor was not one of their London lot. He was Smith's man, and Arthur Hunt especially hated Smith. Taylor had reported Barney Rose, and he was likely to beat Vincent to the footplate. It didn't look good for them either when Taylor's great pal Mike – another out-of-town lad brought in by Smith – was jacked in.

The writer's hand was racing as I explained that I should have known the half-link were innocent because they could have had no real reason to crown Sir John Rickerby. Stanley, on the other hand, had cause to hate or fear everyone who'd been killed.

With the great confidence I now felt, I asked whose coffin I had been in, and the Captain said, 'Mrs Davidson-Hill's. There was a great deal of distress at the funeral when you were found.' I said I had no memory of any of that, but I was sorry, and the Captain said, 'You are hardly to be blamed.'

Two other questions occurred to me. 'How was I found?' I asked, for I was curious to hear what explanation Mack had come up with other than the truth, which is that he'd been trying to get his hands on the dear old lady's jewels.

"They heard you knocking,' said the Captain, and I smiled to myself at that.

Then I asked what had happened to Mrs Davidson-Hill herself, but I never did get to hear, for at that moment one of the sisters came to look at my gauze, and the Captain said, 'I would rather not say just at the moment.'

'Will you put salt on Stanley?' I asked, when the sister was gone. The Captain said nothing, but just smoked slowly, in a way that made me ask again: 'Will you put salt on this man?'

"The difficulty', said the Captain, 'is evidence, and the other difficulty is finding him.' 'Doesn't the Necropolis hold an address for him?'

'We looked into that when you first mentioned him,' the Captain said. "They have him down as being at a certain lodge, which he has lately quit.' He began digging something out of his coat pocket. 'I want you to go carefully until we can get to him. I've ordered the constables in your territory to keep a close watch on your lodge, and it's three blasts on this if you see him.' He had stopped rummaging at last and produced a silver whistle.

Well, I nearly burst out laughing. 'I would rather give him three blasts with a shotgun'1 said.

At this the Governor smiled for the first time, and said, 'It's more fun to watch 'em dangle.' Later, my landlady was brought to my bed by Sister Purvis. They were as beautiful as each other: one second you would think one had the edge, another the other. I couldn't help thinking that it was like watching two Atlantics racing. After a long period of smiling on all sides, Sister Purvis left and my landlady remained. She sat on my bed saying nothing and it was a very happy time as far as I was concerned, except that shameful thoughts of Signal Street would keep coming back.

'I haven't yet managed to get any cocoa in' she said after a while. 'Don't concern yourself on that score' I said.

'I could make up the cocoa – when I get it – the night before and leave it in the range for you to pick up in the morning. It would still be hot – well, it would be quite hot.' She looked at the electric light over my head for a while before adding: 'I daresay it would not be absolutely cold, at any rate.' 'No need for that,' I said.

'I would do that' she said, 'and I would be happy to do it, only I've been a little rushed.' I nodded. 'Would you like to hear the whole tale?' I said. 'It comes in six parts.' 'Of course' she said. 'Number one -'

'But not now, perhaps,' she said. 'You need to rest.' She made sure nobody was looking and gave me a kiss. Then she stood up. 'The room is now advertised in several papers,' she said.

After a long pause, as I recalled how I had attempted to escape from the casket, I said, 'I'm sorry for not having put up your notice at Nine Elms.'

The fact was, I hadn't wanted another in the lodge with the two of us. She said that it was all right.

After a further pause, I said, 'I'll be out tomorrow, and I wondered whether you would like to come on another excursion.' 'With Mary Allington?' she said. 'Of course,' I said, and she turned away and suddenly laughed – a very short laugh but very beautiful. She left shortly after. The greatest astonishment came at six on my last day, just after I'd started on a plate of mutton and my bottle of beer. It was Arthur Hunt, still black from a day at Nine Elms, carrying a package roughly done up with string. Somehow things were the wrong way about between us, for he was very ill at ease in the hospital, as a man so full of strength and vigour could hardly fail to be. I asked him to sit down but he would not for fear of dirtying a chair, and nor would he take a bottle of beer, which I could have got for him easily. There was then a great collision of apologies, in which Arthur said he'd seen I was a decent sort, not sent in to sneak, on the ride out to Brookwood.

I said, 'I'd never have guessed that was what you were thinking.'

'In truth,' he said, 'I only thought it later, but the thoughts came from what I saw that day.' 'Why were you all going to twist me in the Old Shed, then?' 'Twist you? We were coming to improve you.' 'But you all looked fit to be tied.'

Arthur shrugged, saying, 'We might have taken a couple of pints. And Vincent clatters the engines as he goes – it's just a habit of his.' He looked at me solemnly for quite a while. Then he said, 'An engine man doesn't need as much imagination as you've got.'

'I'll try to put that straight,' I said, thinking: but how can a thing like that be changed?

'Buck up,' said Arthur. 'I've brought you a copy of the Bible.'

This was a turn up; I hadn't had Arthur down for anything in that line. But when I pulled away the wrapping from the package I saw a book called Engine Driving Life by M. Reynolds. 'You might look at the first page,' said Arthur. There he had written, in a fine hand, but with some smudging: The steam is up; the engine bright as gold; The fire king echoes back the guard's shrill cry, The roaring vapour shrieks out fierce and bold, A moment – and like lightning on we fly.' 'I've had the whole story from the coppers,' he said – and I was glad he spoke at that point, for I could not have. 'I never took to that fellow Stanley and if I see him about I'll knock him into the middle of next week.' 'You know of him then?' 'I've seen him at the Necropolis station; I know him to be another parasite in a collar and tie.' I nodded.

'It couldn't have happened if he'd been in a trade union,' said Arthur. 'But what union could Stanley ever be in?' 'In time there'll be one for every class of worker,' said Arthur.

By now I was ready to have a go at thanking him properly for the book, but again he cut me off in my stumbling attempts: 'You've got it in you to put up some good running,' he said. 'But I can't chuck coal to the front,' I said. 'No,' he said. 'And my fire-raising is not of the best.' 'It is not.' 'I can't read signals when they come in a jumble.' 'I noticed that.' 'And I'm no great hand at injecting.' 'No.' 'It is enough for now that I have a great affection for it all, and a determination to get on?' 'No,' said Arthur.

'So,' I said, 'How can you be sure I'll ever be up to the mark?'

He was buttoning his coat to go. 'Because I'm going to make bloody sure, that's how.'

Monday 4 January continued

I came out of St Thomas's on the Monday afternoon, and the wind from the river immediately started battering me. I turned a corner into the racing world of cabs and trams and horses, with their drivers in all combinations of moods, and thought: this is my home now. It was all the world of Waterloo. As I set off to Nine Elms, I resolved to take my first route, via the streets. But that would mean that Stanley had won, so I began to make my way by the side of the river, although I was not so brave as to chuck the whistle away.