“Well,” said Mr. Andrews, smiling a watery kind of smile, “perhaps it would be best. I’ve had a worrying kind of day, and not much to eat.”

“I’ll get you a tray of ham and pickles and bread,” said his wife. “It won’t take a minute. You go and wash.”

Mr. Andrews went out. Anne was surprised that he seemed so small and looked rather stupid. She had imagined someone big and burly, strong and clever, who was always going about doing grand deals and making a lot of money. Well, he must be cleverer than he looked, to make enough money to give Mrs. Andrews all she needed for her farm.

Mrs. Andrews bustled about with this and that, laying a tray with a snow-white cloth, and plates of food. Mr. Andrews could be heard in the bathroom, splashing as he washed. Then he came downstairs and put his head in at the door. “My meal ready?” he asked. “Well, Jock — had a good day?”

“Yes, thanks,” said Jock, as his stepfather took the tray from his mother and turned to go. “We went all round the farm this morning — and we talked and talked this afternoon. And oh, I say — do you know anything about spook-trains, sir?”

Mr. Andrews was just going out of the door. He turned in surprise. “Spook-trains? What are you talking about?”

“Well, Julian says there’s an old deserted railway yard a good way from here, and spook-trains are supposed to come out of the tunnel there in the dark of night,” said Jock. “Have you heard of them?”

Mr. Andrews stood stock still, his eyes on his stepson. He looked dismayed and shocked. Then he came back into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.

“I’ll have my tea here after all,” he said. “Well, to think you’ve heard of those spook-trains! I’ve been careful not to mention them to your mother or to you, Jock, for fear of scaring you!”

“Gee!” said Dick. “Are they really true then? They can’t be.”

“You tell me all you know, and how you know about it,” said Mr. Andrews, sitting down at the table with his tray. “Go on. Don’t miss out a thing. I want to hear everything.”

Julian hesitated. “Oh — there’s nothing really to tell, sir — just a lot of nonsense.”

“You tell it me!” almost shouted Mr. Andrews. “Then I’ll tell you a few things. And I tell you, you won’t go near that old railway yard again — no, that you won’t!”

Chapter Eight

A lazy evening

The five children and Mrs. Andrews stared in surprise at Mr. Andrews, when he shouted at them. He repeated some of his words again.

“Go on! You tell me all you know. And then I’ll tell you!”

Julian decided to tell, very shortly, what had happened at the old railway yard, and what Wooden-Leg Sam had said. He made the tale sound rather bald and dull. Mr. Andrews listened to it with the greatest interest, never once taking his eyes off Julian.