Phulboni was stunned: the chances of there being a train anywhere nearby were close to nil. The train he had taken was not due back from Barich until dawn, and there were no other trains running on that line. And even if there were, why would they be diverted to that siding – and who would switch the tracks? He had been following the stationmaster for the last several minutes, and he knew that he had been nowhere near the switching mechanism.

And yet there was no denying the evidence of his senses: the rails were shaking under his hands, and the vibrations were getting steadily stronger. He laid his ear upon the rail and listened carefully. He heard the unmistakable rumble of an approaching train. It was thundering towards him, very close at hand. At the last minute he flung himself sideways, over the embankment and went tumbling down towards the water.

Phulboni was still falling when the lights of the train flashed across the flooded fields. Clutching wildly at a bush, he managed to bring himself to a stop, his head inches from the water. At that very moment he heard a scream, a raging, inhuman howl that tore through the stormy night. It hurled a single word into the wind – 'Laakhan' – and then it was silenced by the thunder of the speeding train.

Phulboni was clinging to the embankment, head downwards, facing the water. He could not see the siding from that position, but he saw the train's lights, very clearly, skimming across the floodwater, he felt its weight shaking the embankment, he heard the anguished pant of its engine and smelt the coal in its boiler. But all the while the only thing he could think of was how narrowly he had escaped death.

He lay there for a few minutes shaking in fear and relief.

It was still pitch dark but the storm had let up a little. Once his hands had steadied he pushed himself to his feet and began to scramble up the embankment.

When he felt the ground levelling out under him, he called out: 'Anyone there?' just in case whoever it was that had screamed was still within earshot. There was no answer, so he sank to his knees and began to pat the earth around him, trying to find the rails. He knew he would not be able to find his way back to the signal-room without the tracks to guide him. After several minutes he felt a cold glancing touch on one of his hands. Breathing a sigh of relief, he fastened both hands upon the rail.

Disoriented as he was, it took a few minutes before

Phulboni realized that the rail, which had come so vividly alive under his hands a short while ago, was now absolutely still, motionless. He knew that rail tracks carry the sound of trains for miles, in either direction. It was only a short while since the train had passed over the siding: it could not be more than a mile away. He put his ear to the rail and listened carefully. The only sound he heard was the pattering of raindrops falling on metal. Then one of his hands touched some weeds growing over the tracks. He began to run his hands frantically along the rail in both directions. He discovered that the undergrowth that he had seen earlier that day, growing over the tracks, showed no signs of having been disturbed by the passage of a train.

Phulboni was frightened now, more than he had ever been in his life, frightened in a way that left his brain numb, his vision blurred. He was standing on the rail, looking around in a daze, when he saw the red light again. It was about a hundred yards away and it was coming slowly towards him.

Phulboni greeted it with a shout of relief: 'Masterji, masterji, I'm right here…'

The shout went unacknowledged but the lantern began to move a little faster. As he stood there watching the light Phulboni's head cleared a little; he peered at the lantern, trying to catch a glimpse of the face behind it. He could see nothing; the face remained wrapped in darkness.

Phulboni turned and ran. He ran faster than he had ever run, gasping for breath, fighting to keep his footing on the slippery tracks. He glanced over his shoulder once and saw the lantern running after him, closing the gap. He ran still faster, pushing himself on, moaning in terror.

Then he saw the signal-room taking shape in front of him, looming out of the darkness. He flung one last glance over his shoulder. The lantern was no more than a few paces behind him now; a hand clearly visible upon the steel handle.

With one final, desperate effort Phulboni flung himself at the signal-room and stumbled through the doorway. The gun was where he had left it, beside the bed. He snatched it up and turned, aiming the barrel at the door.

He was fumbling with the safety catch when the lantern appeared in the doorway. It stepped in and began to approach him; a hand appeared, bathed in the red light of the lantern. The face was still in darkness but suddenly that inhuman voice rang through the room again. It said just that one word, 'Laakhan'.

And then Phulboni fired, point-blank, into the window of the lantern. The report of the gun filled the room like dynamite exploding in a cave: the recoil of the barrel caught the writer on the chin and knocked him hard against the bed.

Chapter 39

THE NEXT THING Phulboni knew, it was dawn and he was staring into the stationmaster's grinning face. He was no longer in the signal-room: it was dawn and he was outside, lying on his back on something soft.

'I told the-one-who-is-at-home,' said the stationmaster. 'I told her, "You'll see there's no need to worry, he'll be all right.'"

Phulboni closed his eyes. Such was his relief at finding himself unharmed and safe that his whole body went limp.

'I had such a time pulling you out of there, sahib,' the stationmaster said. 'You would think that huge frame of yours is made of brass. I had to pull and pull and pull: all on my own too. But I said to myself, "Budhhu Dubey, whatever happens you have to get him out of this terrible place; even if you hurt your own back. As long as he's inside here; there's no hope for him. You have to get him out.'"

'What happened?' asked Phulboni. 'Where was I when you found me?'

'I came as early as I could,' the stationmaster said. 'The-one-who-is-at-home woke me while it was still dark and said, "Go now, and see if the poor man is all right." I came hurrying as quickly as I could. I found you lying on the floor with your gun across your body. At first I thought you were dead: but then I found you breathing so I pulled you out.'

'And the lantern?' said Phulboni. 'I fired at it: did you see any glass in the signal-room?'

The stationmaster frowned: 'Which lantern?'

'The signal lantern, ' said Phulboni. 'The one that was in the room yesterday.'

'It was in the same place,' said the stationmaster. 'All polished and clean: no one ever touches it. It's always like that, always in the same place: always clean, never any dust on it.'

The stationmaster fanned Phulboni's face vigorously with a banana leaf. 'This station is a terrible place,' he said. 'No one in any of the villages around here comes within a mile of this station after dark. You couldn't make them come if you gave them all the gold that is hoarded in the heavens. I tried to tell you but you wouldn't listen.'

'I'll listen now,' said Phulboni. 'I want to know what happened.'

The stationmaster sighed. 'I don't know what to tell you,' he said. 'A big sahib like yourself. I can only tell you what people say in these parts: simple village people like myself… '

Phulboni, listening with his eyes closed, ran his hand over his forehead. 'What is it that people say?' he said. 'I want to know.'

And then as luck would have it, one of his hands, reaching back brushed against a rail, a length of cold, vibrating steel. He opened his eyes, and found himself gazing at an uninterrupted view of leaves and trees, outlined against a rosy dawn sky. There was no sign of the stationmaster or anybody else. He looked around and discovered that he was lying on the siding, across the tracks, on a mattress. Hesitantly'he stretched out his arm and touched the rail.