When I saw him in this state， I saw that for the poor man’ssake， as well as for the public safety， what I had to do for thetime was to compose his mind. Therefore， setting aside allquestion of reality or unreality between us， I represented tohim that whoever thoroughly discharged his duty must dowell， and that at least it was his comfort that he understoodhis duty， though he did not understand these confoundingAppearances. In this effort I succeeded far better than in theattempt to reason him out of his conviction. He became calm；the occupations incidental to his post as the night advancedbegan to make larger demands on his attention： and I left himat two in the morning. I had offered to stay through the night，but he would not hear of it.
That I more than once looked back at the red light as Iascended the pathway， that I did not like the red light， and that Ishould have slept but poorly if my bed had been under it， I seeno reason to conceal. Nor did I like the two sequences of theaccident and the dead girl. I see no reason to conceal that either.
But what ran most in my thoughts was the consideration howought I to act， having become the recipient of this disclosure？
I had proved the man to be intelligent， vigilant， painstaking，and exact； but how long might he remain so， in his state ofmind？ Though in a subordinate position， still he held a mostimportant trust， and would I （for instance） like to stake myown life on the chances of his continuing to execute it withprecision？
Unable to overcome a feeling that there would be somethingtreacherous in my communicating what he had told me tohis superiors in the Company， without first being plain withhimself and proposing a middle course to him， I ultimatelyresolved to offer to accompany him （otherwise keeping hissecret for the present） to the wisest medical practitioner wecould hear of in those parts， and to take his opinion. A changein his time of duty would come round next night， he hadapprised me， and he would be off an hour or two after sunrise，and on again soon after sunset. I had appointed to returnaccordingly.
Next evening was a lovely evening， and I walked out early toenjoy it. The sun was not yet quite down when I traversed thefield-path near the top of the deep cutting. I would extend mywalk for an hour， I said to myself， half an hour on and half an hourback， and it would then be time to go to my signal-man’s box.
Before pursuing my stroll， I stepped to the brink， andmechanically looked down， from the point from which I had firstseen him. I cannot describe the thrill that seized upon me， when，close at the mouth of the tunnel， I saw the appearance of aman， with his left sleeve across his eyes， passionately wavinghis right arm.
The nameless horror that oppressed me passed in a moment，for in a moment I saw that this appearance of a man was a manindeed， and that there was a little group of other men， standingat a short distance， to whom he seemed to be rehearsing thegesture he made. The Danger-light was not yet lighted. Againstits shaft， a little low hut， entirely new to me， had been made ofsome wooden supports and tarpaulin. It looked no bigger thana bed.
With an irresistible sense that something was wrong，—witha flashing self-reproachful fear that fatal mischief had comeof my leaving the man there， and causing no one to be sentto overlook or correct what he did，—I descended the notchedpath with all the speed I could make.
“What is the matter？” I asked the men.
“Signal-man killed this morning， sir.”
“Not the man belonging to that box？”
“Yes， sir.”
“Not the man I know？”
“You will recognise him， sir， if you knew him，” said theman who spoke for the others， solemnly uncovering his ownhead， and raising an end of the tarpaulin， “for his face is quitecomposed.”
“O， how did this happen， how did this happen？” I asked，turning from one to another as the hut closed in again.
“He was cut down by an engine， sir. No man in Englandknew his work better. But somehow he was not clear of theouter rail. It was just at broad day. He had struck the light，and had the lamp in his hand. As the engine came out of thetunnel， his back was towards her， and she cut him down. Thatman drove her， and was showing how it happened. Show thegentleman， Tom.”
The man， who wore a rough dark dress， stepped back to hisformer place at the mouth of the tunnel.
“Coming round the curve in the tunnel， sir，” he said， “I sawhim at the end， like as if I saw him down a perspective-glass.
There was no time to check speed， and I knew him to be verycareful. As he didn’t seem to take heed of the whistle， I shut itoff when we were running down upon him， and called to himas loud as I could call.”
“What did you say？”
“I said， ‘Below there！ Look out！ Look out！ For God’s sake，clear the way！’”
I started.
“Ah！ it was a dreadful time， sir. I never left off calling tohim. I put this arm before my eyes not to see， and I waved thisarm to the last； but it was no use.”
Without prolonging the narrative to dwell on any one ofits curious circumstances more than on any other， I may，in closing it， point out the coincidence that the warning ofthe Engine-Driver included， not only the words which theunfortunate Signal-man had repeated to me as haunting him，but also the words which I myself—not he—had attached， andthat only in my own mind， to the gesticulation he had imitated.
