At the end of five minutes there was
another shriek. Paul turned quickly to the inspector. Ah, then,
there was another train? No; it was only the up express for Basle,
going the other way and stopping at the Nord Station, half a mile
away. It would not stop here, but the Herr would see it pass in a
few moments at full speed.
It came presently, with a prolonged despairing shriek, out of the
darkness; a flash, a rush and roar at his side, a plunge into the
darkness again with the same despairing cry; a flutter of something
white from one of the windows, like a loosened curtain, that at
last seemed to detach itself, and, after a wild attempt to follow,
suddenly soared aloft, whirled over and over, dropped, and drifted
slowly, slantwise, to the ground.
The inspector had seen it, ran down the line, and picked it up.
Then he returned with it to Paul with a look of sympathizing
concern. It was a lady's handkerchief, evidently some signal waved
to the well-born Herr, who was the only passenger on the platform.
So, possibly, it might be from his friends, who by some stupid
mischance had gone to the wrong station, and--Gott im Himmel!--it
was hideously stupid, yet possible, got on the wrong train!
The Herr, a little pale, but composed, thought it WAS possible.
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