Already attracted from afar by the altercation, that functionary came hurrying up.
"Here, guard," said Mr. Rowland, with that air of authority which the lower classes so adore. "This fellow is
annoying me. I'll give him in charge for attempted blackmail
if necessary. Pretends I've got his niece hidden in here.
There's a regular gang of these foreigners trying this sort
of thing on. It ought to be stopped. Take him away, will
you7 Here's my care if you want it."
The guard looked from one to the other. His mind was soon made up. His training led him to despise foreigners
and to respect and admire well-dressed gentlemen who travelled
first-class.
He laid his hand on the shoulder of the intruder. "Here," he said, "you come out of this."
At this crisis the stranger's English failed him, and he plunged into passionate profanity in his native tongue.
"That's enough of that," said the guard. "Stand away, will you? She's due out."
Flags were waved and whistles were blown. With an unwilling jerk the train drew out of the station.
George remained at his observation post until they were clear of the platform. Then he drew in his head, and picking
up the suitcase tossed it into the rack.
"It's quite all right. You can come out," he said reassuringly.
The gift crawled out.
24 Agatha Christie
"Oh!" she gasped. "How can I thank you?"
"That's quite all right. It's been a pleasure, I assure you,"
returned George nonchalantly.
He smiled at her reassuringly. There was a slightly puzzled
look in her eyes. She seemed to be missing something
to which she was accustomed. At that moment, she caught
sight of herself in the narrow glass opposite, and gave a heartfelt gasp.
Whether the carriage cleaners do, or do not, sweep
under the seats every day is doubtful. Appearances were
against their doing so, but it may be that every particle of
dirt and smoke finds its way there like a homing bird. George
had hardly had time to take in the girl's appearance, so
sudden had been her arrival, and so brief the space of time
before she crawled into hiding, but it was certainly a trim
and well-dressed young woman who had disappeared under
the seat. Now her little red hat was crushed and dented, and
her face was disfigured with long streaks of dirt.
"Oh!" said the girl.
She fumbled for her bag. George, with the tact of a true
gentleman, looked fixedly out of the window and admired
the streets of London south of the Thames.
"How can I thank you?" said the girl again.
Taking this as a hint that conversation might now be
resumed, George withdrew his gaze and made another polite
disclaimer, but this time with a good deal of added warmth
in his manner.
The girl was absolutely lovely! Never before, George
told himself, had he seen such a lovely girl. The ernpressernent of his manner became even more marked.
"I think it was simply splendid of you," said the girl with
enthusiasm.
"Not at all. Easiest thing in the world. Only too pleased
been of use," mumbled George.
"Splendid," she reiterated emphatically.
It is undoubtedly pleasant to have the loveliest girl you
have ever seen gazing into your eyes and telling you how
splendid you are. George enjoyed it as much as anyone
would.
Then there came a rather difficult silence. It seemed to
dawn upon the girl that further explanation might be ex
THE GIRL IN THE TRAIN .
pected She riohed a little.
"T'e awkwrd part of it is," she said nervously, "that
I'm afraid I ca0't explain."
She looked t him with a piteous air of uncertainty.
"You can't txPlain?''
"No."
"How perfectly splendid!" said Mr. Rowland with enthusiasm.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, 'HoOt perfectly splendid.' Just like one of those
books that kee .yo.u, upall night. The heroine always says,
'I can't explain in me nrst chapter. She explains in the last,
of course, and ere's never any real reason why she shouldn't
have doge so ir the beginning--except that it would spoil
the story, I cant tell you how pleased I am to be mixed up
in a real myster'Y--I didn't know there were such things. I
hope it's got something to do with secret documents of
immense impor4ance' and the Balkan express. I dote upon
the Balkan expfess'''
The girl starsd at him with wide, suspicious eyes.
"What makes you say the Balkan express?" she asked
sharply.
"I hope I ha'qen't been indiscreet,". Georg,e hastened to
put in. "Your u fcle travelled by t, perhaps.
"My uncle---"' She paused, then began again, "My un-cie--"
"Quite so," ;:said George sympathetically. "I've got an
uncle myself. N°b°dy should be held responsible for their
uncles, lqature' little throwbacks--that's how I look at it."
The girl bega&, to laugh suddenly. When she spoke, George
was aware of the slight foreign inflection in her voice. At
first he had takffn her to be English.
"What a refrdshing and unusual person you are, Mr.---"
"Rowland. cde°rge to my friends."
......... Elizabeth--"
She stopped ;abruptly.
"I like the nane of Elizabeth," said George, to cover her
momentary conusi°n' "They don't call you Bessie or anything
horrible lie that, I hope?"
She shook hdr head.
"Well," said George, "now that we know each other,
Agatha Christie
w',d !ter get down to business. If you'll stand up, Elizaiomd
11 bsh down the back of your coat."
-e StOl up obediently, and George was as good as his
wCS'
,,aank You, Mr. Rowland."
·
e°rge. George to my friends, remember. And .you
ca- cc°ne into my nice empty carriage, roll under the seat,
inUC,e me to tell lies to your uncle, and then refuse to be
you?"
,,an You, George."
"D a-Cs better."
,,
o 1100k quite all fight now? asked Elizabeth, trying
to ,oV.erher left shoulder.
look--oh! you look--you look all fight," said
G,r.ge, Curbing himself sternly.
,}[ auSstall so sudde,n,, you see," explained the girl.
., ,
have been.
-enree saw Us in the taxi, and then at the station I just bolted
in 0.1%Ving he was close behind me. Where is this
traJ,.ng to, by the way?"
°w!a?l's Castle," said George fmnly.
'' g?l looked puzzled.
,°wlatl's Castle?"
, o-t.at Once, of course. Only after a good deal of stop-
piE:slt)w going. But I confidently expect to be there
betv'. ';"unight. The old South-Western was a very reliable
lina o hut sure--and I'm sure the Southern Railway
. epmg
.. ,,
s up
the old traditions.
'.
Eta.t know that I want to
go to Rowland's
Castle,"
sai,, .beth doubtfully.
,,,x,
o.u. hart
me.
It's a delightful spot."
::xY)
ever been there?"
· tly. But there
are lots of other places you can
go tO.'.
tY.°a tlon't fancy Rowland's
Castle.
There's Woking,
and0eW)YrDoClge, and Wi,,mbledon. The
train is sure to stop at ,oll see," h
r of them. ,,
- aid the girl. Yes, I
can get out there, and
pe
?,?ot%
back
to
London.
That
would
be
the
best
plan,
l ,v..e:.
as
She
spoke,
the
train
began
to
slow
up.
Mr. To O mu
ga - d
at
her
with
appealing
eyes.
THE GIRL IN THE TRAIN
27
"If I can do anything-"
"No, indeed. You've done a lot already."
There was a pause, then the girl broke out suddenly:
"I I wish I could explain. I--"
"For heaven's sake, don't do that! It would spoil everything.
But look here, isn't there anything that I could do?
Carry the secret papers to Vienna--or something of that
kind? There always are secret papers. Do give me a chance."
The train had stopped. Elizabeth jumped quickly out onto
the platform. She turned and spoke to him through the
window.
"Are you in earnest? Would you really do something for
us--for me?"
"I'd do anything in the world for you, Elizabeth."
"Even if I could give you no reasons?"
"Rotten things, reasons!"
"Even if it were--dangerous?"
"The more danger, the better."
She hesitated a minute, then seemed to make up her mind.
"Lean out of the window. Look down the platform as
though you weren't really looking." Mr. Rowland endeavouted
to comply with this somewhat difficult recommendation.
"Do you see that man getting in--with a small dark
beard--light overcoat? Follow him, see what he does and
where he goes."
"Is that all?" asked Mr. Rowland. "What do I "
She interrupted him.
"Further instructions will be sent to you. Watch him--and
guard this." She thrust a small sealed packet into his
hand. "Guard it with your life. It's the key to everything."
The train went on. Mr. Rowland remained staring out of
the window, watching Elizabeth's tall, graceful figure
threading its way down the platform. In his hand he clutched
the small sealed packet.
The rest of his journey was both monotonous and uneventful.
The train was a slow one. It stopped everywhere.
At every station, George's head shot out of the window, in
case his quarry should alight. Occasionally he strolled up
and down the platform when the wait promised to be a long
one, and reassured himself that the man was still there.
The eventual destination of the train was Portsmouth,
28
Agatha Christie
and it was there that the black-bearded traveller alighted. He made his way to a small second-class hotel where he
booked a room. Mr. Rowland also booked a room.
The rooms were in the same corridor, two doors from each other. The arrangement seemed satisfactory to George.
He was a complete novice in the art of shadowing, but was
anxious to acquit himself well, and justify Elizabeth's trust
in him.
At dinner George was given a table not far from that of his quarry. The room was not full, and the majority of the
diners George put down as commercial travellers, quiet
respectable men who ate their food with appetite. Only one
man attracted his special notice, a small man with ginger
hair'and moustache and a suggestion of horsiness in his
apparel. He seemed to be interested in George also, and
suggested a drink and a game of billiards when the meal
had come to a close. But George had just espied the black-bearded
man putting on his hat and overcoat, and declined
politely. In another minute he was out in the street, gaining
fresh insight into the difficult art of shadowing. The chase
was a long and a weary one--and in the end it seemed to
lead nowhere. After twisting and turning through the streets
of Portsmouth for about four miles, the man returned to the
hotel, George hard upon his heels. A faint doubt assailed
the latter. Was it possible that the man was aware of his
presence? As he debated this point, standing in the hall, the
outer door was pushed open, and the little ginger man entered.
Evidently he, too, had been out for. a stroll,
George was suddenly aware that the beauteous damsel in the office was addressing him.
"Mr. Rowland, isn't it? Two gentlemen have called to see you. Two foreign gentlemen. They are in the little room
at the end of the passage."
Somewhat astonished, George sought the room in question. Two men who were sitting there rose to their feet and
bowed punctiliously.
"Mr. Rowland? I have no doubt, sir, that you can guess our identity."
George gazed from one to the other of them. The spokesman was the elder of the two, a grey-haired, pompous
gntlemen who spoke excellent English. The other was a
THE GIRL IN THE TRAIN 29
tall, somewhat pimply young man, with a blond Teutonic
cast of countenance which was not rendered more attractive
by the fierce scowl which he wore at the present moment.
Somewhat relieved to find that neither of his visitors was
the old gentleman he had encountered at Waterloo, George
assumed his most debonair manner.
"Pray sit down, gentlemen. I'm delighted to make your
acquaintance. How about a drink?"
The elder man held up a protesting hand.
"Thank you, Lord Rowland--not for us. We have bu
a few brief moments--just time for you to answer from
question."
"It's very kind of you to elect me to the peerage," sak
George. "I'm sorry you won't have a drink. And what
this momentous question?"
"Lord Rowland, you left London in company with
certain lady. You arrived here alone. Where is the lady?"
George rose to his feet.
"I fail to understand the question," he said coldly, speak
ing as much like the hero of a novel as he could. "I hay4
the honour to wish you good evening, gentlemen."
"But you do understand it. You understand it perfectly,'
cried the younger man, breaking out suddenly. "What haw
you done with Alexa?"
"Be calm, sir," murmured the other. "I beg of you to b
calm."
"I can assure you," said George, "that I know no lad
of that name. There is some mistake."
The older man was eyeing him keenly.
"That can hardly be," he said dryly. "I took the libert
of examining the hotel register. You entered yourself as M
G.
Rowland of Rowland's Castle."
<
br /> George was forced to blush.
"A--a little joke of. mine," he explained feebly.
"A somewhat poor subterfuge. Come, let us not be
about the bush. Where is Her Highness?"
"If you mean Elizabeth--"
With a howl of rage the young man flung himself forwar
again.
"Insolent pig-dog! To speak of her thus."
"I am referring," said the other slowly, "as you very we
30
Agatha Christie
know, to the Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophia Alexandra
Marie Helena Olga Elizabeth of Catonia."
"Oh!" said Mr. Rowland helpless!y.
He tried to recall all that he had ever known of Catonia.
It was, as far as he remembered, a small Balkan kingdom,
and he seemed to remember something about a revolution
having occurred there. He rallied himself with an effort.
"Evidently we mean the same person," he said cheerfully,
"only 1 call her Elizabeth."
"You will give me satisfaction for that,:' snarled the
younger man. "We will fight."
"Fight?" "A duel."
"I never fight duels," said Mr. Rowland firmly.
"Why not?" demanded the other unpleasantly.
"I'm too afraid of getting hurt."
"Aha! Is that so? Then I will at least pull your nose for
you."
The young man advanced fiercely. Exactly what happened
was difficult to see, but he described a sudden semicircle in the air and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
He picked himself up in a dazed manner. Mr. Rowland was
smiling pleasantly.
"As I was saying," he remarked, "I'm always afraid of
getting hurt. That's why I thought it well to learn jujitsu."
There was a pause. The two foreigners looked doubtfully
at this amiable-looking young man, as though they suddenly
realized that some dangerous quality lurked behind the
pleasant nonchalance of his manner. The young Teuton was
white with passion.
"You will repent this," he hissed.
The older man retained his dignity.
"That is your last word, Lord Rowland? You refuse to
tell us Her Highness's whereabouts?','
"I am unaware of them myself."
"You can hardly expect me to believe that."
"I am afraid you are of an unbelieving nature, sir."
The Golden Ball and Other Stories Page 4