Bones in London

Bones said he would think the matter over, and he did – aloud, in thepresence of Hamilton.

"It's a queer proposition," said Hamilton. "Of course, derelictrailways can be made to pay."

"I should be general manager," said Bones more thoughtfully still. "Myname would be printed on all the posters, of course. And isn't there afree pass over all the railways for railway managers?"

"I believe there is something of the sort," said Hamilton, "but, on thewhole, I think it would be cheaper to pay your fare than to buy arailway to get that privilege."

"There is one locomotive," mused Bones. "It is called 'Mary Louisa.'Pyeburt told me about it just as I was going away. Of course, onewould get a bit of a name and all that sort of thing."

He scratched his chin and walked thoughtfully into the office of Miss

Marguerite Whitland.

She swung round in her chair and reached for her notebook, but Boneswas not in a dictatorial mood.

"Young miss," he asked, "how do you like Sir Augustus?"

"Sir who?" she demanded, puzzled.

"Sir Augustus," repeated Bones.

"I think it's very funny," she said.

It was not the answer he expected, and instinctively she knew she hadmade a mistake.

"Oh, you're thinking about yourself," she said quickly. "Are you goingto be a knight, Mr. Tibbetts? Oh, how splendid!"

"Yes," admitted Bones, with fine indifference, "not bad, dear old miss.

I'm pretty young, of course, but Napoleon was a general at twenty-two."

"Are you going back into the Army?" she asked a little hazily, and hadvisions of Bones at the War Office.

"I'm talking about railways," said Bones firmly. "Sir Augustus

Tibbetts – there, now I've said it!"

"Wonderful!" said the girl enthusiastically, and her eyes shone withgenuine pleasure. "I didn't see it in the newspaper, or I would havecongratulated you before."

Bones shifted uneasily.

"As a matter of fact, dear old miss," he said, "it has not beengazetted yet. I'm merely speaking of the future, dear old impetuoustypewriter and future secretary to the Lynhaven Railway Company, andpossibly dear old Lady – " He stopped short with one of his audible"tuts."

Happily she could not see the capital "L" to the word "Lady," andmissed the significance of Bones's interrupted speech.

He saw Mr. Harold Pyeburt at his office, and Mr. Harold Pyeburt hadseen the Right Hon. Parkinson Chenney, and the right honourablegentleman had expressed his willingness to sell the railway, lock, stock, and barrel, for sixty thousand pounds.

"And I advise you" – Mr. Pyeburt paused, as he thought of a better wordthan "disinterestedly" – "as a friend, to jump at it. Parkinson Chenneyspoke in the highest terms of you. You evidently made a deepimpression upon him."

"Who is the jolly old Parkinson's agent?" asked Bones, and Mr. HaroldPyeburt admitted without embarrassment that, as a matter of fact, hewas acting as Parkinson's attorney in this matter, and that was why hehad been so diffident in recommending the property. The audacity ofthe latter statement passed unnoticed by Bones.

In the end Bones agreed to pay ten per cent. of the purchase price, theremainder to be paid after a month's working of the line, if the dealwas approved.

"Clever idea of mine, dear old Ham," said Bones. "The Honours Listwill be out in a month, and I can easily chuck it."

"That's about the eighth fellow who's paid a ten per cent. deposit,"said Mr. Chenney to his agent. "I'll be almost sorry if he takes it."

Three weeks later there were two important happenings. The PrimeMinister of England, within an hour of leaving for the West of Englandto take a well-earned rest, summoned to him his right-hand man.

"Chenney," he said, "I really must go away for this rest, and I'mawfully sorry I cannot be on hand to meet the Chinese Commission. Now, whatever you do, you will not fail to meet them at Charing Cross ontheir arrival from the Continent. I believe they are leaving Paristo-morrow."

"I shall be there," said Parkinson Chenney, with a little smile. "Irather fancy I have managed their coal concession well, Prime Minister."

"Yes, yes," said the Prime Minister, who was not in the mood forhanding out bouquets. "And would you run down to Tolness and settle upthat infernal commission of inquiry? They've been asking questions inthe House, and I can give no very definite reply. Solebury threatenedto force a division when the vote came up. Undoubtedly there's been agreat deal of extravagance, but you may be able to wangle a reasonableexplanation."

"Trust me, Prime Minister," said Mr. Parkinson Chenney, and left thatafternoon by special train for Tolness.

On that very morning Bones, in a pair of overalls and with a raptexpression, stood with his hand on the starting lever of "Mary Louisa,"and explained to the secretary of the company – she also wore whiteoveralls and sat in the cab of the engine – just how simple a matter itwas to drive a locomotive.

For two glorious days Bones had driven the regular service betweenLynhaven and Bayham Junction, where the lines met. He had come to knowevery twist and turn of the road, every feature of the somewhatfeatureless landscape, and the four passengers who travelled regularlyevery day except Sundays – there was no Sunday service – were now sofamiliar to him that he did not trouble to take their tickets.

The Lynhaven Railway system was not as elaborate as he had thought. Hehad been impressed by the number of railway trucks which stood in thesiding at the terminus, but was to discover that they did not belong tothe railway, the rolling stock of which consisted of "Mary Louisa," anasthmatic but once famous locomotive, and four weather-beaten coaches.The remainder of the property consisted of a half right in a bayplatform at Bayham Junction and the dilapidated station building atLynhaven, which was thoughtfully situated about two miles from the town.

Nobody used the railway; that was the stark truth borne in uponMarguerite Whitland. She recognised, with a sense of dismay, theextraordinary badness of the bargain which Bones had made. Bones, witha real locomotive to play with – he had given the aged engine-driver aweek's holiday – saw nothing but the wonderful possibilities of pullinglevers and making a mass of rusting machinery jerk asthmaticallyforward at the touch of his hand.

"There are a lot of people," said Bones, affectionately patting a steampipe, "a lot of people," he said, after sucking his fingers, for thesteam was extraordinarily hot, "who think poor old 'Mary Louisa' isdone for. Believe me, dear old miss, this locomotive wants a jolly lotof beating, she does really. I haven't tried her full out – have I,jolly old stoker?"

The jolly old stoker, aged seventeen, shook a grimy face.

"And don't you try, neither," he said ominously. "Old George, he nevertakes her more than quarter speed, he don't."

"Do you hear, dear old miss?" said Bones triumphantly. "Not more thanquarter speed. I tell you I could make enough money out of this enginealone to pay the whole cost of the railway.

"What about giving engine-driving lessons? That's an idea! And whatabout doing wonderful cinema pictures? That's another idea! Thrillingrescues from the train; jolly old hero struggling like mad on the roofof the carriage; railway collisions, and so forth, and so on."

"You can't have a collision unless you've two engines," said the girl.

"Oh, well," said the optimistic Bones, "we could perhaps borrow anengine from the Great Northern."

He looked down at the girl, then looked at his watch.

"Time to be up and doing, dear old thing," he said, and looked backalong the little train. The aged guard was sitting on a barrow, hisnodding head testifying to the sleep-giving qualities of Lynhaven air.Bones jerked the whistle, there was an unearthly shriek, and the guardwoke up. He looked at his watch, yawned, searched the train forpassengers, waved his flag, and climbed into his little compartment.

The engine shrieked again. Bones pulled over the lever gently, andthere was a gratifying chuck-chuck-chuck. Bones smiled down at thegirl.

"Easy as shelling peas, dear old thing," he said, "and this time I'mgoing to show you just how she can go."

"Old Joe don't let her go more than quarter speed," said the diminutivestoker warningly.