TWENTY-ONE
When Horsefield reached the end of the platform, he dropped over the edge and began to cross the railway tracks. I was tempted to shoot at him, but I knew that I was no Wyatt-Earp type sharp shooter and I was probably too far away from the target to be successful. However, unlike my quarry, I was an able-bodied fellow – no wound to hinder me – and I reckoned I could soon catch up with him.
In copycat fashion, I slipped over the edge of the platform too and began picking my way across the tracks. By now Horsefield had progressed past the end of the next platform and further out, beyond the confines of the canopy of the station. In turning to see how far I was behind him, he stumbled and fell full length with a sharp cry. Now was my chance. But it was foiled by the appearance of
