On The Night Express by Fred M. White — Read

Connie was speaking in a whisper now, but every word she said was being followed by her friends with rapt attention. It was some little time before she could resume.

"After that," she said. "I suppose I fainted again. When once more I opened my eyes I saw the fire had eaten a hole right in the side of my compartment, quite large enough for me to climb out of it on to the line. There everything was in the most terrible confusion. It was in the early morning, remember and dark as pitch. All the same there were men with lanterns and nurses and doctors and all that sort of thing, and, here and there other men working on the blazing carriages in the hope of finding some poor creatures who were not yet dead. One man saw me emerge from the compartment and asked if he could do anything for me. I responded, as best I could, that I was all right and that there was pressing work for him to do elsewhere. So, you see, I was left alone to look after myself, and I managed to crawl along the line to the next station, which, providentially, was not far away. Later on, a relief train arrived and most of the survivors were carried to Manchester. Later I doubled back as far as this place, when I picked out haphazard and managed to find quarters under the roof of a comfortable old dame who believed my story. The spectacles and wig I bought in Manchester at a theatrical costumiers. And now you know all about it."