eard tell that Felwyn Tunnel is
haunted. But, there, I won't say any more about that. It's a black
business, and has given trouble enough. There's poor Wynne, the same
thing as convicted of the murder of Pritchard; but now they say that
Davidson's death will clear him. Davidson was as good a fellow as you
would come across this side of the country; but for the matter of that,
so was Pritchard. The whole thing is terrible--it upsets one, that it
do, sir."

"I don't wonder at your feelings," I answered; "but now, see here, I
want to make a most careful examination of everything. One of the
theories is that Wynne crept down this rocky side and fractured
Pritchard's skull. I believe such a feat to be impossible. On examining
these rocks I see that a man might climb up the side of the tunnel as
far as from eight to ten feet, utilising the sharp projections of rock
for the purpose; but it would be out of the question for any man to come
down the cutting. No; the only way Wynne could have approached Pritchard
was by the line itself. But, after all, the real thing to discover is
this," I continued: "what killed Davidson? Whatever caused his death is,
beyond doubt, equally responsible for Pritchard's. I am now going into
the tunnel."

Inspector Henderson went in with me. The place struck damp and chill.
The walls were covered with green, evil-smelling fungi, and through the
brickwork the moisture was oozing and had trickled down in long lines to
the ground. Before us was nothing but dense darkness.

When we re-appeared the signalman was lighting the red lamp on the post,
which stood about five feet from the ground just above the entrance to
the tunnel.

"Is there plenty of oil?" asked the Inspector.

"Yes, sir, plenty," replied the man. "Is there anything more I can do
for either of you gentlemen?" he asked, pausing, and evidently dying to
be off.

"Nothing," answered Henderson; "I will wish you good-evening."

"Good-evening to you both," said the man. He made his way quickly up the
path and was soon lost to sight.

Henderson and I then returned to the signal-box.

By this time it was nearly dark.

"How many trains pass in the night?" I asked of the Inspector.

"There's the 10.20 down express," he said, "it will pass here at about
10.40; then there's the 11.45 up, and then not another train till the
6.30 local to-morrow morning. We shan't have a very lively time," he
added.

I approached the fire and bent over it