Read Online Blood From a Stone by Dolores Gordon-Smith - Free Book Online

bred, and made them, in an oddly indefinable way, equals.
    A horrible possibility came into her mind. ‘Is he ... Is he ...’ she said slowly.
    â€˜He’s got a string of jewels,’ said the man unexpectedly. He nearly laughed. ‘There’s jewels at his feet.’
    The door between the coaches opened and the ticket inspector came through. ‘Tickets, please,’ he said in a Sussex burr. He nodded affably at Isabelle. ‘I’ve seen your ticket, Miss, I know. However,’ he added, in mild reproof, ‘you really shouldn’t block the corridor like this.’
    The man in the shabby coat turned to him eagerly. ‘You’ll know what to do! There’s a man. A ... A ... Well, a man. He’s had an accident.’
    The ticket inspector pushed his cap back and scratched his head thoughtfully. ‘An accident, sir? You’d better show me what’s what. Where is he?’
    â€˜In the second compartment.’ The shabby-coated man swallowed again. ‘The blinds are down. I thought it was unfair that someone should try and bag a compartment all to themselves, so I looked in and ... and ...’ He broke off. ‘I couldn’t think what to do.’ He put a trembling hand to his mouth. ‘He’s got jewels. At his feet. Jewels.’
    â€˜Jewels?’ The inspector raised his eyebrows meaningfully. ‘Just as you say, sir.’ He glanced at Isabelle and, in an unostentatious but significant gesture, tapped the side of his head. ‘We’ll soon see what the problem seems to be,’ said the inspector easily. ‘Lead the way, sir.’ He looked meaningfully at Isabelle who was barring his way. ‘After you, Mum.’
    The shabby man looked at Agathe. ‘It’s not suitable,’ he muttered, but Agathe pulled at Isabelle’s hand.
    â€˜ Moi, ’ she said insistently. ‘ Moi aussi. ’
    â€˜Come on, sir,’ said the ticket inspector insistently.
    The shabby man swallowed, shrugged and walked the few steps along the rumbling corridor where he stood outside a compartment.
    What Isabelle should do, she knew, was take Agathe back to her mother but, not only would it be difficult to squeeze past the burly inspector who was clearly waiting for her to move, she very much wanted to know what had happened. Jewels?
    â€˜It’ll be all right,’ said the inspector reassuringly in a low voice to Isabelle. ‘I know his sort. Nervy. It’ll be something and nothing, I’ll be bound. Someone took bad, you mark my words. Let’s just have a look, shall we? Come on, Miss.’
    Isabelle let herself be shepherded along the corridor towards the shabby man. As he said, the blinds were down. The inspector opened the door.
    For a fraction of a second, Isabelle couldn’t see anyone in the compartment, then she realised the window was wide open and a man in a blue suit was leaning out. Very far out, she thought. He’d bent double, leaning right over the edge of the window. He could hurt himself like that ...
    Her mind seemed to have slowed to a crawl, reality coming in little, jerky images. The hot little hand of Agathe’s, holding hers, the way the man’s hand knocked against the outside of the door as his arm swung carelessly, moved by the rattle of
the train, the sturdy blue cloth of his trousers, the flash of something very bright on the floor, his thick-soled brown shoes, the gasp the ticket inspector gave, the stuff that seemed to be splashed on the outside of the window.
    â€˜What’s he done?’ said the inspector stupidly, his red face growing blotchy as the colour drained out of it. ‘He mustn’t lean out of the window like that.’ He shook himself as if denying what he saw and walked forward a couple of paces. He put his hand on the man’s bent back. ‘Up you come!’
    â€˜No!’ yelled Isabelle. She couldn’t see the man’s head. It was