complete stranger should decide to come back and question her; and then, to make matters W0rse, she had made a gauche and personal remark about his appearance.
Miranda flushed hotly at the recollection and wriggled herself free of the enveloping blankets. He had probably thought that she was a gushing film-fan attempting to compliment him by comparing him to a popular actor, and had not realized that what had prompted her remark was less a matter of personal resemblance than the fact that it had suddenly occurred to her that he possessed an actor’s face. A face that was in itself unremarkable, yet capable of altering completely to each change of its owner’s mood; becoming a blank mask, or assuming a dozen different characteristics at will.
She bundled the blankets to one end of the berth and pulled aside the edge of the windowblind. It was daylight outside, and the train was standing at a station. There were several men who appeared to be policemen on the platform; one of whom stood with his back to the train, immediately outside her window.
Someone tapped on the door, and as it opened to admit Stella, Miranda saw that the blinds were no longer drawn over the corridor windows, and that beyond them a grey morning sky dripped a thin drizzle of rain onto railway tracks and gaunt buildings.
‘You’re awake,’ said Stella. ‘We were told to let you sleep for a bit. ‘Randa, what a ghastly thing to happen! You found him, didn’t you? Hurry and get your clothes on. They want to see us. No, don’t pull up the blind. The platform is cordoned off and crawling with policemen. I’ll turn the light on. Here’s a cup of tea for you. It’s not very hot, I’m afraid.’
She turned on the light, and closing the door behind her, sat on the edge of the berth and continued to talk while Miranda swallowed the lukewarm tea, washed in cold water and dressed in a hurry. , .,,.. ……..
61
Stella looked both excited and resentful, and her voice had an injured edge to it as she explained that their section of the train had been shunted into a side platform on arrival at Charlottenburg station, and that no one had as yet been allowed off it - although all the passengers from the other coaches had left. A police guard had been placed on it, and hot tea and sandwiches produced by a uniformed member of the W.V.S. But they had already been stuck there for over two hours while police and special service officers had, according to Stella, swarmed all over the train taking photographs and hunting for clues and fingerprints.
‘And they’ve taken all our luggage off,’ complained Stella indignantly. ‘They wouldn’t let us keep a thing. They just came and took everything, and said that we’d find it all ready for us when we left. A man called Lang seems to have arranged it all. He was on our train from the Hook and he seems to
be something to do with police or intelligence or M.I.5. He told Robert what had happened and explained that since you’d been kept up pretty late over all this, you might as well be allowed to sleep. He says that we shall all have to answer a few questions and then they’ll let us go. It’s only a matter of routine, or something silly. He let Robert and Colonel Leslie talk to some people who had come down to meet us. Oh, and he said to tell you to leave all your things in the carriage. He’ll see that you get them back.’
‘So I should hope!’ said Miranda crisply. ‘Switch off the light, will you, Stella.’ She pulled up the blind and let in the wet daylight. ‘Have I got to leave my bag as well? It’s got my passport and all my papers and things in it.’
‘No. We’re allowed to keep those. But I gather they’ll want to have a look at them too before they let us leave.’
‘Well, I think it’s a lot of nonsense,’ said Miranda unreasonably. ‘I suppose it’s just that officious Guinness creature throwing his weight about!’
‘Who?’ inquired Stella, puzzled.
Miranda flushed
Miranda flushed hotly at the recollection and wriggled herself free of the enveloping blankets. He had probably thought that she was a gushing film-fan attempting to compliment him by comparing him to a popular actor, and had not realized that what had prompted her remark was less a matter of personal resemblance than the fact that it had suddenly occurred to her that he possessed an actor’s face. A face that was in itself unremarkable, yet capable of altering completely to each change of its owner’s mood; becoming a blank mask, or assuming a dozen different characteristics at will.
She bundled the blankets to one end of the berth and pulled aside the edge of the windowblind. It was daylight outside, and the train was standing at a station. There were several men who appeared to be policemen on the platform; one of whom stood with his back to the train, immediately outside her window.
Someone tapped on the door, and as it opened to admit Stella, Miranda saw that the blinds were no longer drawn over the corridor windows, and that beyond them a grey morning sky dripped a thin drizzle of rain onto railway tracks and gaunt buildings.
‘You’re awake,’ said Stella. ‘We were told to let you sleep for a bit. ‘Randa, what a ghastly thing to happen! You found him, didn’t you? Hurry and get your clothes on. They want to see us. No, don’t pull up the blind. The platform is cordoned off and crawling with policemen. I’ll turn the light on. Here’s a cup of tea for you. It’s not very hot, I’m afraid.’
She turned on the light, and closing the door behind her, sat on the edge of the berth and continued to talk while Miranda swallowed the lukewarm tea, washed in cold water and dressed in a hurry. , .,,.. ……..
61
Stella looked both excited and resentful, and her voice had an injured edge to it as she explained that their section of the train had been shunted into a side platform on arrival at Charlottenburg station, and that no one had as yet been allowed off it - although all the passengers from the other coaches had left. A police guard had been placed on it, and hot tea and sandwiches produced by a uniformed member of the W.V.S. But they had already been stuck there for over two hours while police and special service officers had, according to Stella, swarmed all over the train taking photographs and hunting for clues and fingerprints.
‘And they’ve taken all our luggage off,’ complained Stella indignantly. ‘They wouldn’t let us keep a thing. They just came and took everything, and said that we’d find it all ready for us when we left. A man called Lang seems to have arranged it all. He was on our train from the Hook and he seems to
be something to do with police or intelligence or M.I.5. He told Robert what had happened and explained that since you’d been kept up pretty late over all this, you might as well be allowed to sleep. He says that we shall all have to answer a few questions and then they’ll let us go. It’s only a matter of routine, or something silly. He let Robert and Colonel Leslie talk to some people who had come down to meet us. Oh, and he said to tell you to leave all your things in the carriage. He’ll see that you get them back.’
‘So I should hope!’ said Miranda crisply. ‘Switch off the light, will you, Stella.’ She pulled up the blind and let in the wet daylight. ‘Have I got to leave my bag as well? It’s got my passport and all my papers and things in it.’
‘No. We’re allowed to keep those. But I gather they’ll want to have a look at them too before they let us leave.’
‘Well, I think it’s a lot of nonsense,’ said Miranda unreasonably. ‘I suppose it’s just that officious Guinness creature throwing his weight about!’
‘Who?’ inquired Stella, puzzled.
Miranda flushed
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