"If that other train had been going a little
faster----"

He could just hear the river gurgling beneath him. He had got over his fright by the time he reached Victoria. "Just a common-place accident," he assured himself, as he drove in a
taxi-cab to his chambers. "That's the worst of it! If I happened to be
drowned in the ordinary way they'd swear it was the legend. I suppose,
for that reason, I had better not take any risks. Anyhow, I needn't go
near the sea until the year is out!" The superstitious would doubtless affirm that the Fates had sent him one
warning and, angered at his refusal to accept it, had determined to
drive home the lesson of his own impotence. For when he arrived at his
chambers he found a cablegram from Paris awaiting him. "Hullo, this must be from Uncle Peter!" he exclaimed, as he tore open
the envelope. "_Fear uncle dying. Come at once.--Machell._"

Machell was the elder Cargill's secretary, and young Cargill was the old
man's heir. It was not until he was in the boat-train that he realised that he was
about to cross the sea. It was a coincidence--an odd coincidence. When the ship tossed in an
unusually rough crossing he was prepared to admit to himself that it was
an uncanny coincidence. He stayed a week in Paris for his uncle's funeral. When he made the
return journey the Channel was like the proverbial mill pond. But it was
not until the ship had actually put into Dover that he laughed at the
failure of the Fates to take the opportunity to drown him. He laughed, to be exact, as he was stepping down the gangway. At the end
of the gangway the fold of the rug which he was carrying on his arm,
caught in the railings. He turned sharply to free it and stepping back,
cannoned into an officer of the dock. It threw him off his balance on
the edge of the dockside. Even if the official had not grabbed him, it is highly probable that he
could have saved himself from falling into the water, because the
gangway railing was in easy reach; and if you remember that he was a
champion swimmer, you will agree that it is still more probable that he
would not have been drowned, even if he had fallen. But the incident made its impression. His thoughts reverted to it
constantly during the next few days. Then he told himself that his
attendance at the last rites of his uncle had made him morbid, and was
more or less successful in dismissing the affair from his mind. He had many friends in common with the Lardners. Early in February he
was invited for a week's hunting to a house at which Betty Lardner was
also a guest. She had not forgotten. She did her best to avoid him, and succeeded
remarkably well, in spite of the fact that their hostess, knowing
something of young Cargill's feelings, made several efforts to throw
them together. One day at the end of the hunt he came alongside of her and they walked
their horses home together. When he was sure that they were out of
earshot he asked:

"You haven't forgiven me yet?" "You know the conditions," she replied banteringly. "You leave me no alternative to suicide," he protested. "That would be cheating," she said. "You must be drowned honestly, or
it's no good." Then he made a foolish reply. He thought her humour forced and it
annoyed him. Remember that he was exasperated. He had looked forward to
meeting her, and now she was treating him with studied coldness over
what still seemed to him a comparatively trifling matter. "I am afraid," he said, "that that is hardly likely to occur. The fact
of my being a townsman instead of a drunken boatman doesn't give your
legend a fair chance!" Less than an hour afterwards he was having his bath before dressing for
dinner. The water was deliciously hot, and the room was full of steam. As he lay in the bath a drowsiness stole over him. Enjoying the keen
physical pleasure of it, he thought what a wholly delightful thing was a
hot bath after a day's hard hunting. His mind, bordering on sleep, dwelt
lazily on hot baths in general. And then with a startling suddenness
came the thought that, before now, men had been drowned in their baths! With a shock he realised that he had almost fallen asleep. He tried to
rouse himself, but a faintness had seized him. That steam--he could not
breathe! He was certain he was going to faint. With a desperate effort of the will he hurled himself out of the bath
and threw open the window. It must have been the bath episode that first aroused the sensation of
positive fear in Cargill. For it was almost a month later when he
surprised the secretary of that swimming club of which he was the main
pillar by his refusal to take part in any events for the coming season. He was beginning to take precautions. Late one night, when taxi-cabs were scarce, he found that his quickest
way to reach home would be by means of one of the tubes. He was in the
descending lift when he suddenly remembered that that particular tube
ran beneath the river. Suppose an accident should occur--a leakage! After all such a thing was within the bounds of possibility. Instantly
there rose before him the vision of a black torrent roaring through the
tunnel. Without waiting for the lift to ascend he rushed to the staircase, and
sweating with terror gained the street and bribed a loafer to find him a
cab. He made an effort to take himself seriously in hand after that. More
than one acquaintance had lately told him that he was looking "nervy." In the last few weeks his sane and normal self seemed to have shrunk
within him. But it was still capable of asserting itself under
favourable conditions. It would talk aloud to the rest of him as if to a
separate individual. "Look here, old man, this superstitious nonsense is becoming an
obsession to you," it said one fine April morning. "Yes, I mean what I
say--an obsession! You must pull yourself together or you'll go stark
mad, and then you'll probably go and throw yourself over the Embankment. That legend is all bosh! You're in the twentieth century, and you're not
a drunken fisherman----"

"Hullo, young Cargill!" The door burst open and Stranack, oozing health and sanity, glared at
him. "Jove! What a wreck you look!" continued Stranack. "You've been
frousting too much. I'm glad I came. The car's outside, and we'll run
down to Kingston, take a skiff and pull up to Molesey." The river! Young Cargill felt the blood singing in his ears. "I'm afraid I can't manage it. I--I've got an appointment this
afternoon," he stammered. Stranack perceived that he was lying, and wondered. For a few minutes
he gossiped, while young Cargill was repeating to himself:

"You must pull yourself together. It's becoming an obsession. You must
pull yourself together." He was vaguely conscious that Stranack was about to depart. Stranack was
already in the doorway. His chance of killing the obsession was slipping
from him! A special effort and then:

"Stop!" cried Cargill. "I--I'll come with you, Stranack." Oddly enough, he felt much better when they were actually on the river.