“It was now 8.45.  In fifteen minutes more the express would be in.  I was actually unable to endure the dreadful suspense, and had just made up my mind to go and see Herbert, who boarded across the road from the station, when the waiting-room door opened and he entered.  Without speaking to me he walked dejectedly over to the station agent’s door, and was just going to knock at it, when I reached his side and said to him in deep agitation, ’Tell me, Herbert, are you quite sure you received no orders to hold the express? she will soon be here now.’  My voice trembled with anxiety.  Without looking at me or appearing to notice my strange manner, he replied, ’No orders, if you received none.’  As the door closed behind him I could have cried out, so keen was the feeling of dread that again swept over me.  Just then I heard the whistle of the locomotive, which seemed to stop my very heart from beating.  Like one bereft I ran back into the telegraph office, and began to call the dispatcher’s office.  There was one more chance of saving the express if it was in danger, and that was by asking if an order had been sent to hold it for a crossing.  I had waited until the last minute before I could make up my mind to do this:  because, if the dispatcher had telegraphed an order, he would know by repeating it that Herbert had forgotten to book it and turn the red light facing the station on to the track.  Such a grave omission would mean sure dismissal.  If he had not sent one he would want to know what made me ask him such a strange question, and would at once get an inkling that something was wrong.  True it is that troubles never come singly!  For a full minute I stood desperately calling the dispatcher’s office, but got no answer.  Either the wires had been crossed or the man had for a few minutes left his post.  I closed the key and sank weakly back on my chair.

“As the door opened and old Conductor Rawlings, with the typical railway man’s good-natured bustle, entered the room and noisily banged his lamp down on the desk, I buried my face in my hands, completely prostrated by contending emotions.  The feeling that the train should not be allowed to proceed burned in me more fiercely than ever.

“‘Here, there!’ yelled Rawlings, ’hurry up and trot out that clearance order.’  If I had been chained to the chair I could not have been more unable to move.  Getting no answer from me, Rawlings walked quickly into the telegraph office, and catching me unceremoniously by the arm, said impatiently, ’Come, now, wake up and give me that order; what do you mean by keeping me like this?’

“With a dazed feeling I staggered to my feet and took up a pad of orders.  If I signed and gave him one of them, I was responsible for the safety of the train until it reached the next station.  The orders read that the track was clear of all trains, and that no instructions had been received by the operator to detain trains for crossings.  The forms were printed.  All the operators had to do was to sign them.  With averted face I seized the pen and tried to sign my name to one of the slips, but so fearfully were my nerves unstrung that the pen fell twice from my hand to the floor.  The next thing I knew, Rawlings had turned me round and was letting the glare of the lantern fall full on my face.