Death in the Tunnel by Miles Burton Page B

pastureland. Merrion stopped, and pointed straight in front of him. “See that?” he exclaimed triumphantly.
    Arnold looked in the required direction. A few hundred yards from where they stood was a cylindrical brick structure, about six feet in diameter and eight feet high, not unlike a factory chimney cut off short just above the base. The suggestion was heightened by the fact that a feather of whitish smoke was floating lazily from the top. The inspector looked at it without interest. “That thing that’s smoking over there?” he replied. “Yes, I see it. What is it? A lime-kiln, or something?”
    â€œLime-kiln!” Merrion retorted scornfully. “Don’t you remember walking through the tunnel on Saturday? And when I remarked to the ganger that the atmosphere seemed a trifle less poisonous towards the middle, he said that was because there was a ventilating shaft there. Well, we’re just about over the middle of the tunnel now, and that’s the top of the shaft. The smoke you see comes up from the tunnel beneath. Now, let’s go and have a look at it.”
    To do so, they had only to follow the lane which ran within a few feet of the shaft. Merrion looked at this thoughtfully. “I wish we’d thought of bringing a ladder,” he said. “Never mind, there are one or two holes in the brickwork. Enough to give me a foothold, I think. Lend me your back a moment, will you?”
    With Arnold’s aid he scrambled up the side of the shaft, and perched himself on the top, with his legs dangling over the edge. He sat there for so long in silence that the inspector became impatient. “ Are you going to stop up there for the rest of the day?” he asked.
    â€œShut up, I’m listening,” replied Merrion sharply. And it was not for several minutes that he spoke again.
    â€œIt’s all right,” he said at last. “It works perfectly. Sitting up here I can hear the whistle of the trains as they enter the tunnel, and I’m beginning to be able to distinguish the direction from which they are coming. The roar is faint at first, then becomes louder as the train approaches the shaft. The noise is quite different as it passes under the shaft, more like a rattle. Then the roar begins again, and dies away as the train proceeds towards the other end of the tunnel. That’s all I want to know to begin with. Lend me a hand down, will you?”
    Arnold did so. “Listening to trains isn’t a hobby of mine,” he said. “Since you appear to be satisfied, let’s see if we can’t find a decent pub where we can have a drink.”
    â€œYou’ll have to curb your thirst for a little longer, I’m afraid,” Merrion replied. “Look here, on the grass between the lane and the shaft. See that track? Made by a biggish car or a light lorry, unless I’m greatly mistaken. And I think these are the wheel-marks of a smaller and lighter car too. Neither of these tracks are many days old. Come and have a look at them for yourself.”
    â€œYes, I see the tracks all right,” said Arnold. “What about them?”
    â€œSit down here, on the leeward side of the stack, and light your pipe. What has been our chief difficulty with regard to the man or men in the tunnel?”
    â€œWhy, how they got in or out unobserved.”
    â€œRight. Well, this shaft is the way out of that difficulty. Let me explain how the trick was worked. Because we found those lamps in the tunnel, we jumped to the conclusion that there must have been a man down there to work them. But that’s just where we were wrong. They were worked from up here.
    â€œThere were two men concerned, A and B. A was the man with the beard, B his confederate. B arrived here some time before half-past five in a car. I don’t understand why there should be two sets of tracks, but that’s a detail. He had with him in the car the battery that puzzled