“Somebody is awake out there,” Ricky observed. “ ‘Out,’ ‘in’?” he speculated. “Daddy, what are those people? ‘Out’ or ‘in?”

“Outside for us, I suppose, and inside for them.”

“Outside the train and inside the house,” Ricky agreed. “Suppose the train ran through the house, would they be ‘in’ for us?”

“I hope,” his father observed glumly, “that you don’t grow up a metaphysician.”

“What’s that? Look, there they are in their house. We’ve stopped, haven’t we?”

The carriage window was exactly opposite the lighted one in the cliff-like wall of the house. A blurred shape moved in the room on the other side of the blind. It swelled and became a black body pressed against the window.

Alleyn made a sharp ejaculation and a swift movement.

“Because you’re standing right in front of the window,” Ricky said politely, “and it would be rather nice to see out.”

The train jerked galvanically and with a compound racketing noise, slowly entered a tunnel, emerged, and gathering pace, began a descent to sea-level.

The door of the compartment opened and Troy stood there, in a woollen dressing-gown. Her short hair was rumpled and hung over her forehead like her son’s. Her face was white and her eyes dark with perturbation. Alleyn turned quickly. Troy looked from him to Ricky. “Have you seen out of the window?” she asked.

“I have,” said Alleyn. “And so, by the look of you, have you.”

Troy said, “Can you help me with my suitcase?” and to Ricky: “I’ll come back and get you up soon, darling.”

“Are you both going?”

“We’ll be just next door. We shan’t be long,” Alleyn said.

“It’s only because it’s in a train.”

“We know,” Troy reassured him. “But it’s all right. Honestly. O.K..?”

“O.K.,” Ricky said in a small voice, and Troy touched his cheek.