The superintendent of the road is on hand to see that the influential patrons are properly cared for; he has received his instructions from the president, who is an intimate friend of James Golding.

The signal is given and the express starts.

In an incredibly short time the tunnel is reached.  As the train rushes into the darkness, Golding notices that the electric lights have not been turned on.

“Ring for the porter, will you, Mr. Tabort,” he asks of Nevins, whom he knows only as M. Emile Tabort.

“But where is the button?  Ah, I have an idea,” replies Nevins.  “I shall go into the forward car and find the porter; it will not take a minute.”

The car is engulfed in pitchy darkness, save for a glimmer of diffused light that comes from the cars ahead.

“Hurry, won’t you; I hate to be in darkness,” says Golding, uneasily.

“I won’t keep you waiting long,” calls back Nevins, who is half way to the door.

He turns to look at the Magnate.  A vague shadowy form is all that he can discern in the gloom.

“So here is where you are to end a life of mammon-worship,” Nevins mutters as he steps upon the platform of the forward car.

He bends down, and with a strong, quick jerk uncouples the rear car.

For a few seconds the detached car keeps up with the train, then as its momentum is exhausted, a rapidly widening gap is made.

“In five minutes you will have light,” Nevins calls grimly, as he looks at the fading car.

The train rushes ahead with speed that is imperceptibly increased.  Nevins climbs to the top of the car and crawls toward the front of the train.  He works his way to the coach immediately behind the motor.  Standing on the platform he removes his coat and trousers and reappears arrayed in the common suit of a train hand.  A soft cap completes the disguise.

A faint rumble reaches his ears.

“The first Magnate has fallen” he whispers, as if confiding a secret.

“Yes; I have carried out my plan.  James Golding is buried at the bottom of the Channel.  The time-fuse worked.”

When the train emerges from the tunnel it is stopped by the signals of the Block station.  The operator inquires if anything has gone wrong.  He has been unable to communicate with the English station for more than fifteen minutes, and supposes that the wires have been deranged.  Then it is that the loss of the rear car is discovered.

While the trainmen and passengers discuss the matter, a sound from the tunnel reaches their ears; a roar resembling a series of dynamite explosions.

“The tunnel has caved in!” exclaimed the conductor.  “Get aboard, for your lives!”

A rush is made for the train, and in half a minute it pulls away from the mouth of the tunnel at top speed.

From the rear car the tunnel is visible.  The train is five hundred yards away when the waters burst from the mouth of the tunnel.