by Elaine Young
* * *
He was at the Gare de Lyon in good time. He had bought a copy of the morning newspaper and he positioned himself under the clock. From this vantage point he could see the bustle around the train as it came closer to departure time. To his surprise, he saw Miss Wentworth, Mayer’s assistant, arriving and being helped aboard by a very glamorous blonde woman. He wondered vaguely what she could be doing on the train. Then he remembered that Ari had told him that he regularly sent important stuff to Venice. Maybe Mayer had given her the parcel and she was the courier. As he watched he noticed where her compartment was; the front coach in First class. She must have money, this lady.
Just before the guard blew his whistle, Dougie saw a man in a dark overcoat approaching him. In that instant he knew what he had to do. He evaded the man and ran to the train and jumped aboard just as it was pulling out. He then dived into the nearest toilet cubicle and stayed there as long as he could. When the train was well under way he turned his coat inside out so the red lining showed and he put his hat on inside-out so that it looked as if he had blonde curls. He then carefully peered around the door. The coast was clear. Fortunately the train wasn’t full and he was able to hide in an empty compartment for a while, but he didn’t like being there with anxious thoughts buzzing around his head like flies. Over and over again he heard old Marthe’s voice asking ‘Are you running from the devil himself?’ He wanted to shriek in order to get rid of the tension built up in his body, but he dared not.
The train had been thundering along for some time when he decided he would see if he could find Miss Wentworth. He could ask her outright if the Prof had given her a parcel to take to Venice. As he passed a compartment with an open door he glanced in and suddenly froze. Braced in the corner by the window, facing the corridor, was the man in the dark blue overcoat. Dougie’s patent dismay alerted the man, who stood up quickly. Forgetting that he was in disguise, Dougie started running, pushing crablike through the travellers in the corridor. He ignored the dirty looks and the protests as he stood on feet and squashed stomachs. He had to get away.
