expect, just from watching me. Now that you’ve mentioned it, I expect that was what happened. Wouter wasn’t the type to play nasty practical jokes, especially when we had guests aboard. He was never much for parties himself, but he knew how eager Hester was to have everything go with a swing. I couldn’t think why he’d pull such a stunt on purpose. Oh, God, if I’d only come forward sooner! If I hadn’t lost my balance when we stopped short—”
“Who didn’t?” Max reminded him. “That could be why it was done, to give the killer a chance to escape while we were all trying to pull ourselves together. After we’ve got the passengers unloaded and the rest of it taken care of, it mightn’t be a bad idea to come back out to the place where we stopped and check around for footprints in the snow.”
“I daresay I can find someone to run the train for you.” Tolbathy was still polite but sounded desperately tired. “I doubt whether I myself will be free to do it. Aside from everything else, nobody’s had any dinner yet and the passengers will have to be got home one way or another. People didn’t bring their own cars, and I don’t suppose anyone will feel like trekking back via Lincoln Station. By the way, didn’t Quent say something about Wripp’s being rather badly hurt?”
“Yes, he did. Quent is Comrade Durward, right? He seems to be under the impression we’re old buddies, but I don’t recall having met him before.”
“He’s confused you with somebody else, that’s all. Quent’s eyes are so bad he’s always getting people mixed up. I shouldn’t rely on him as a witness, but Quent’s a good chap. He and Wouter were great pals. Your uncle Jem knows him, of course. Sarah’s uncle, I should say. Max, would you do me a favor and go find out what’s happening back there?”
“You don’t mind being left alone with—”
“No.”
Tolbathy’s face was set hard, his eyes fixed on the tracks that had been so carefully plowed clean of snow. How was he going to feel about his precious toy from now on? This might be the last run he’d ever make. Damn shame, Max thought, as he stepped back into the make-believe coal tender.
There wasn’t a great deal of extra space here, with the little stove needing its stack of firewood nearby and its zinc platform to keep it from setting fire to the wooden floor. The coat rack was attached to the wall, as faraway from the heat as possible, and the wraps it held had not been thrown down by the jolting stop, unless somebody had bothered to come and put them back. Max went over to have a look.
The hooks were jammed full of men’s bulky overcoats, women’s ancient minks, ratty beavers, voluminous capes of wool or velvet; plenty of things to hide behind if you needed to get out of sight in a hurry. There was nobody here now. Max went along the rack poking at every wrap to make sure.
Then he lifted the bubbling iron teakettle off the top of the stove and looked in. All he could see was a red-and-yellow shimmer, but that didn’t mean somebody hadn’t got rid of something here lately. These airtight stoves burned awfully hot. There’d been plenty of time since the crash for anything flimsy, such as a false beard, to have been totally incinerated. With some regret, Max peeled off his own dapper mustache and dropped it in to make sure. It flared up and vanished almost before it hit the coals. If there was anything to be found here, it would have to be sifted out of the ashes after the stove cooled down.
CHAPTER 6
M AX WENT ON THROUGH to the parlor car, having to pass Quent Durward, who’d posted himself as watchdog in the vestibule as instructed. “How’s Wouter?” Durward asked, perhaps because he actually recognized Max or perhaps because he just assumed anybody coming from the engine would know.
“As well as can be expected,” Max told him, and kept moving. They’d all know the truth soon enough. Right now, from his impression of the so recently
“Who didn’t?” Max reminded him. “That could be why it was done, to give the killer a chance to escape while we were all trying to pull ourselves together. After we’ve got the passengers unloaded and the rest of it taken care of, it mightn’t be a bad idea to come back out to the place where we stopped and check around for footprints in the snow.”
“I daresay I can find someone to run the train for you.” Tolbathy was still polite but sounded desperately tired. “I doubt whether I myself will be free to do it. Aside from everything else, nobody’s had any dinner yet and the passengers will have to be got home one way or another. People didn’t bring their own cars, and I don’t suppose anyone will feel like trekking back via Lincoln Station. By the way, didn’t Quent say something about Wripp’s being rather badly hurt?”
“Yes, he did. Quent is Comrade Durward, right? He seems to be under the impression we’re old buddies, but I don’t recall having met him before.”
“He’s confused you with somebody else, that’s all. Quent’s eyes are so bad he’s always getting people mixed up. I shouldn’t rely on him as a witness, but Quent’s a good chap. He and Wouter were great pals. Your uncle Jem knows him, of course. Sarah’s uncle, I should say. Max, would you do me a favor and go find out what’s happening back there?”
“You don’t mind being left alone with—”
“No.”
Tolbathy’s face was set hard, his eyes fixed on the tracks that had been so carefully plowed clean of snow. How was he going to feel about his precious toy from now on? This might be the last run he’d ever make. Damn shame, Max thought, as he stepped back into the make-believe coal tender.
There wasn’t a great deal of extra space here, with the little stove needing its stack of firewood nearby and its zinc platform to keep it from setting fire to the wooden floor. The coat rack was attached to the wall, as faraway from the heat as possible, and the wraps it held had not been thrown down by the jolting stop, unless somebody had bothered to come and put them back. Max went over to have a look.
The hooks were jammed full of men’s bulky overcoats, women’s ancient minks, ratty beavers, voluminous capes of wool or velvet; plenty of things to hide behind if you needed to get out of sight in a hurry. There was nobody here now. Max went along the rack poking at every wrap to make sure.
Then he lifted the bubbling iron teakettle off the top of the stove and looked in. All he could see was a red-and-yellow shimmer, but that didn’t mean somebody hadn’t got rid of something here lately. These airtight stoves burned awfully hot. There’d been plenty of time since the crash for anything flimsy, such as a false beard, to have been totally incinerated. With some regret, Max peeled off his own dapper mustache and dropped it in to make sure. It flared up and vanished almost before it hit the coals. If there was anything to be found here, it would have to be sifted out of the ashes after the stove cooled down.
CHAPTER 6
M AX WENT ON THROUGH to the parlor car, having to pass Quent Durward, who’d posted himself as watchdog in the vestibule as instructed. “How’s Wouter?” Durward asked, perhaps because he actually recognized Max or perhaps because he just assumed anybody coming from the engine would know.
“As well as can be expected,” Max told him, and kept moving. They’d all know the truth soon enough. Right now, from his impression of the so recently
Similar Books
