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It is astonishing how at times the wisest and most careful men are befooled into performing acts of considerable trouble to themselves only to serve a purpose useless to them. Everyone knows the story of Sir Isaac Newton, who, being much annoyed by a cat and her kitten continually crying to come into or go out of his study, made two entrances by sawing out pieces from the bottom of the door—a large opening for the cat, and a small one for the kitten! So, in the story about to be related of Koravitch, that astute individual, as will be seen, was once prevailed upon to undertake what proved to be a very dangerous adventure, and certainly by no means to his advantage. But I had better let the chronicler of his exploits relate the details, as follows:

It was on the occasion narrated in a former memoir of my remarkable friend Koravitch—the time when I ran across him in America—that he told me, together with several other personal adventures—some of which have already been narrated—the following extraordinary story. I had been saying to him:

"Well, you certainly seem fated to take part in adventures of the railway. Have you anything else you can tell me in connection with the line?"

He thought for a moment, and then replied:

"Yes; I could tell you several little stories that would interest you. You see, before I turned my hand to political intriguing I had a few years of railway life, mostly in India, where I did a bit of engineering work, besides a few months in Australia. I must tell you some day of an exciting time I had at a little station in the latter country, when some bush-rangers captured the station as a preliminary to boarding the train, and bound the only two occupants—the station-clerk and myself—hand and foot; and another little story of a ride I once had on a locomotive in India, when I was doing driver's duty owing to shortness of hands, and the native fireman 'ran amuck' on the footplate."

"I should think that's about the worst ride you ever had—worse even than the night when we tried to capture Sklavotski, eh?" I asked.

Koravitch removed the cigar he was smoking from between his lips and gazed at it, pondering for a minute or two. Then he said, slowly:

"The worst ride I ever had? Well, not exactly. There was one that beat it, though I'm not very fond of talking about it, because I made such a fool of myself on one occasion. It was a nasty experience, though, and I wouldn't go through it again in a hurry, I can tell you."

"Where was it—India?"

"No, England, on a 'racing' train—the Scotch express."

"How did it—"

"There, don't ask me any more questions about it. I suppose you want to hear the whole yarn, so you may as well have it. You remember the great 'race to the North' of a few years ago, don't you?"

"Rather! I took a great deal of interest in it at the time."

"Humph! Well, there's a little incident connected with that race that may re-awaken your interest when you hear of it, for I don't expect it's known to you. And, moreover, it will serve to explain why one of the racing trains went wrong on one occasion."

"Which—the Great 'North Eastern' or the—"

"Didn't I tell you not to ask too many questions? Now let me begin at the beginning. At the time of the 'race' I was living in the neighbourhood of Tottenham Court Road—the old place, you know—and, if you will mind back to that particular year, you will remember that our 'Secret Society' was more than usually busy. Several important political intrigues were in operation, and some of our most cherished interests were at stake. More than one of the 'heads' of the Society had come over to England, and in one way or another our work was well cut out.

"It was one morning towards the end of August that I received by post—what was not very unusual for me—a mysterious missive, which began with the secret name by which I was known in the Society, and read thus:

"'Use every effort to prevent Scotch Express 8 p.m. from Newston to-morrow (Thursday) arriving at Aberdeen before Great East Northern train. Most important. See papers.'

"This letter was signed by a very influential member of the Society, and I had no doubt that some important interest was at stake. The day on which I received the letter was Thursday, so, if I was to carry out the order, there was certainly no time to be lost. A last night's paper was lying on my table, and, heeding the warning at the end of the letter, I took it up and scanned it. My attention was arrested by the following paragraphs, which seemed to bear on the case in point:

"'The Queen is still staying at Balmoral. She drove out yesterday accompanied by the Princess Beatrice.

"'It is rumoured that the Prime Minister will pay a special visit to Her Majesty, travelling by the Scotch Express to-morrow evening. This visit is said to be occasioned by fresh complications which have arisen in the Bulgarian Question.'

"Not being satisfied, however, with this, I sent out for a morning paper, and found still more to interest me. There was a paragraph something to this effect:

"'Count von Scheuzinger, Envoy Extraordinary from the Austrian Government, is expected to arrive in London late this afternoon. His Excellency will seek the earliest opportunity for an interview with the Queen, and will in all probability proceed to Aberdeen immediately after a brief visit to the Foreign Office.'

"I began to see daylight. Evidently it was wished that this individual should be able to steal a march on the Premier, and the latter had selected the 'West Northern Route' for his journey northward. I turned to Bradshaw, and hunted up the trains from Aberdeen to Ballater. The 'Queen's Special' left the former at 3.50 a.m. That was too early for either express to catch. The next train from Aberdeen was at 7.10, and at the time of the 'race' either express would catch it easily. So the only alternative at which I could arrive was that the foreign ambassador, if he reached Aberdeen before the Prime Minister, would drive to Balmoral. At all events, one thing was clear, and that was that I was ordered to delay the West Northern express. Again I turned to the paper, and read the following:

"'THE RACE TO THE NORTH.

"'Yesterday morning the West Northern express was again to the front in the railway race, arriving at Aberdeen at 5.15 a.m., while its rival from Queen's Cross reached that station at 5.31. Last night both trains started at 8 o'clock, the drivers keenly alive to the work required of them, but, of course, we go to press too early to know the result of their respective journeys. To-night, however, it is anticipated that the race will be more exciting that ever, for the West Northern officials state that they will not only run the express in two portions, but that the first half will only consist of four coaches, and they are pretty well determined that it will not only beat their rival, but also prove a record run. Those who favour the Great East Northern Route will also be interested to hear that every possible pains are being taken in order that to-night's run shall also be a record.'

"Here was a pretty problem for me to work out! I was accustomed to all sorts of intrigues and risks, but to undertake the delaying of a special racing train seemed rather a large order. I sallied forth, trying to hatch some scheme, and wended my way first to Queen's Cross. Here it was my luck, on pretending to be a representative of the Press, to get a brief interview with the man who had been told off to drive the train on its first stage that night.

"'Shall we beat 'em, sir?' he remarked. 'Can't say, I'm sure. It's a ticklish point. They've had the pull of us yet, for, you see, although they've 540 miles to our 523, they've got an advantage in being able to pick up water as they go along, and so their tenderweight's a good deal less than ours. They've got a bit better track, I believe, too, though it's a stiff pull up the Snap bank between Breston and Carline. Of course, we shall do our best, but I wouldn't like to promise you the G.E.N. 'll win.'

"This was discouraging, and I sought the rival terminus. There I managed to learn that every effort was being made to run a record that night, and that it would be very surprising if the G.E.N. got the better of them. I tried to get into the engine sheds in the hope of having a chance to tamper with the locomotive that was going to do the first stage of the journey, or at least to get at the driver. But it was all of no use. The officials seemed particularly reticent, and I could get no information whatever. Tired and cross, I returned to my rooms to rest as best I could and think out the situation. All sorts of ideas presented themselves to my mind: going down the line, capturing some lonely signal-box, and keeping the signals against the express; setting a red light on the line to stop the train, as I did once on the Nord Belge Railway; but nothing seemed feasible, and at length I determined to travel myself on the express, in the hope that some unforeseen opportunity would turn up and help me to delay the train. With this purpose in my mind I started from my lodgings some little time after seven o'clock in the evening. It was darker than usual for the time of year, for the sky had become overcast with heavy clouds, and a severe thunderstorm was threatening to break.

"I was wending my way through some of the back streets in the neighbourhood of N.W. London, where itinerant vendors of fruit and vegetables are apt to expose their wares for sale on barrows, when one of these gentlemen, who was packing up his scales, let a weight slip just as I passed, with the result that it struck my foot in falling.

"'Beg pardon, guv'nor!' he remarked, in answer to my somewhat angry ejaculation. "Ope it ain't 'urt ye, but 'tain't only a two-pounder, and it might have been worse.'

"'Bad enough as it is,' I replied, 'for it caught me a nasty knock.'

"'Better than 'avin' a twenty pun' wyte on yer foot, same as one of my brothers did once—that's enough to lime a bloomin' great elephant.'

"I was about to pass on when a sudden idea struck me, and I turned to the man.

"'What's the biggest weight you have in stock?'

"'Only four pun'. There ain't no use for anything above that on my barrer.'

"'Where can I buy a twenty-pound weight?'

"'Eh! Are yer goin' in fur sellin' coals, guv'nor? Well, on the second turnin' to the right there's an ironmonger's shop, where they sell such things; and let me—'

"I was off to the shop before he had finished, and somewhat astonished the proprietor by purchasing a twenty-pound weight, with a bar-handle let into it, and taking it away with me. It was an awkward thing to carry, of course. I had it done up in brown paper, and grasped the handle through this as well as I could. What did I want it for? Wait a minute and you'll see.

"When I reached the portico of the station the storm had begun to break, and, in spite of the fact that it was still only a quarter to eight, darkness had set in. I was very glad of this, as it favoured my plot—in fact, it was necessary that it should be quite dark. As I strolled on to the platform the engine was just backing in with full steam up—one of the well-known compounds of the 'West Northern' type. Of course there were a number of people looking on, and at first it seemed as though I should not succeed in my plan, which was to travel unobserved on the front of the engine that pulled the 'Scotch Express.'

"Four minutes to eight, and still the opportunity had not come. Then a brilliant idea seized me. One compartment of the train was still unoccupied, except by the light luggage of three passengers, who were standing on the platform, one of whom I recognised as the Prime Minister. To dart into the 'sleeper,' open the opposite door, and get out on the other side was the work of a few seconds, and to my joy I found myself in the six-foot way between two trains—the 'Express' and an 'empty' drawn up alongside, so that my movements were quite concealed from observation. Along in between the trains I crept, lugging my big weight with me, past the tender of the engine, past the cab—the driver and fireman being too much engaged on the other side to notice me—past the two sets of driving-wheels peculiar to this type of engine, until I stood close to its front. How I wished at that moment that the West Northern Railway built their engines on the 'bogie' system, for, of course, that would have given me a much larger space in front of the smoke-box. But I screwed up my courage, placed the weight on the narrow platform in front of the engine, and prepared to spring on myself as soon as she started.

"Nor had I very long to wait, for, punctually to the moment, the driver opened the regulator, and off she steamed on her journey north, with Screwe as her first stopping-place, unless I managed that it should be otherwise. At the same moment I grasped the frame and drew myself up on to the narrow platform in front, taking care to crouch down as much as possible, so as to avoid being seen by anyone on the platform. As we cleared the roof of the terminus the rain pelted down in torrents, and before we reached the first tunnel I was wet to the skin. The darkness had become intense, for which I was only too thankful, as it prevented me from being seen. By the time we ran through Williamsden Junction the speed was very great, and it was as much as I could do to hold on by the vacuum brake-pipe in front as I lay with my knees drawn up on my narrow and jolting resting-place.

"Out into the country and the black night we raced, running against time and our rival of the Great East Northern, with the blast thundering up the chimney close behind me, and the good engine quivering with the strain. No joke even to be on the footplate behind a comfortable cab on such a night; but to be riding where I was might strike a feeling of uneasiness into the heart of many a man bolder than myself.

"Once I was in great peril of being discovered. I happened to raise myself from my crouching position for a moment, holding on to the hand-rail in front of the chimney, when, as I looked back, I saw the fireman coming to the front with his oil-can. In horror I crouched round to the opposite side, stooping as far as possible in case the driver should see me through the weather glass. Fortunately the fireman went back the way he had come, or I must, of course, have been caught.

"But the worst was to come, for I had stationed myself there for a purpose, and, as our head-light shone upon the narrow trough of water between the rails at Thorney, I laid hold of my weight and prepared to act. But, no, we were not to pick up water here; the scoop was not let down, I knew, because I heard no splash. So on we went, until I was chilled to the bone with the rain and rush through the storm, until at length we reached the top of the long gradient that rises more or less all the way between London and Wing, and were dashing down at fearful speed through Sheddington and Laytown.

"When we were through Bletchton I prepared to act once more, and presently I had grasped the weight by its handle and was holding it over the buffer-plate exactly in the centre, as far down as I could possibly reach—right over the middle of the track. It seemed ages, and I thought I could never hold on; but presently I caught a glimpse of something shining ahead, and we were over the water trough at Castledean.

"Splash! The driver had let down the scoop, and there was not an instant to lose. Reaching as far down as possible, I dropped the twenty-pound weight into the water-trough between the rails. A moment afterwards and there was a crash—faint enough beneath the roar of the locomotive, but sufficient to distinguish in it the ripping sound of tearing iron. Immediately the splashing ceased, and I knew the weight had done its work. It had fallen into the trough, and, naturally, the scoop struck it as it came along and was completely destroyed, the effect being that it was impossible to pick up any more water en route, and that the driver would be compelled to stop and replenish his tank before he reached Screwe.

"And stop he had to. I very soon knew by the sound of the engine and her blast that he had notched her up as much as he dared, and was afraid to open his damper much. The speed slackened slightly, and it was evident that it would be a ticklish job for him to get as far as Mugby without his lead plug blowing off. But, as I afterwards heard, he understood his engine thoroughly, and he did it. I was too much occupied in getting off unobserved as we drew up at Mugby to notice things, but I just heard him shout to someone on the platform:

"Look alive there with that water! It's a fine night's work this! What's up? Why, someone must have fouled the road and put a big block of iron or something in the water-troughs. We'll not win the race to-night, that's certain!'

"Nor did they. What the West Northern's record would have been without that stop it's impossible to say, for as it was they ran into Aberdeen at 4.51 the next morning. But the Great East Northern was there already, a good eleven minutes in front of them at Linaber Junction, and for once the West Northern had to take a 'back seat,' for of course it was on their portion of the track that the mishap occurred.

"And what was the result, do you ask? Did Count Scheuzinger reach Balmoral before the Prime Minister, and why was it that the Secret Society wanted him to do so? No, the Austrian Ambassador, as it happened, had travelled down with the Prime Minister by the West Northern Route, and I had been made a fool of. How? Why, the next evening, after arriving back in town utterly done up with my exertions, you may imagine my feelings when a letter came by the last post for me, which read somewhat as follows:

"My dear sir,—I really cannot refrain from writing both to thank you for a service you have, as I suppose, rendered me, and also to congratulate you on what must have been an exceedingly daring exploit. But let me explain myself.

"I may as well state that for some time past I have been acquainted with the methods of your Secret Society, and, in fact, in order to further certain ends of my own have succeeded in more than once penetrating into some of your meetings. It was at one of these that I first became aware of your daring and ability in a certain adventure of the railway undertaken by yourself, and based upon your technical knowledge and skill; and I well remembered how it was said at the time that when any difficult enterprise connected with the line had to be undertaken, you were the man, par excellence, to evolve the scheme and to carry it out. It was this that led me to select you to aid me in a little matter that concerned myself. The fact is, there has been a good deal of betting lately on the 'Race to the North,' and, of course, the odds have been the last few days very much against the East Coast Route. Being myself one of that class of people known as 'prodigal sons,' and not yet having eschewed the husks of fortune for the ways of piety, it occurred to me that there was something in taking heavy odds as above if I could claim your assistance in delaying the West Coast train. I accordingly wrote to you, taking the liberty to sign myself as one of those whom I knew you would obey, suggesting that you should stop the express from Newston, while certain paragraphs in the papers to which I mysteriously alluded probably lent colour to my request "'At all events, when I saw you at Newston platform last night (for naturally I was there) I felt sure that my little plot had succeeded—especially when I observed that you had chosen a somewhat novel method of travelling northwards, for I just caught sight of you in front of the engine as the train started. What was your exact method of procedure I do not know, but as there was a breakdown I naturally surmise that you had something to do with it. Your journey must have been, to say the least of it, somewhat unpleasant, but you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you have earned the gratitude and substantially increased the wealth of "Yours very truly, "East Coast Route. "P.S.—I am sorry I cannot sign my real name but the reason must be obvious to you.'

"And so," added Koravitch, "you see I had been fearfully and wonderfully sold. I never discovered who the individual was that I had unwittingly served; but, at all events, that was the most terrible ride I ever had on a locomotive, and I don't think I'd care to undertake such an experience again."

NOTE.-It is worth recording that in the race to the North of 1895 the times of arrival at Aberdeen on the last three days were as follows:—

West Coast. East Coast. August 20th 4.58 5.11 August 21st 4.51 4.40 August 22nd 4.32 6.23

Also I have it on reliable information that on the night of the 21st an L. and N.W. engine broke down in some way between Bletchley and Crewe and considerably delayed the train. I mention the coincidence as a remarkable one. Perhaps "Koravitch" has explained another railway incident!