“Well, can we? I said—” Troy went on, looking sideways at her husband —“that you’d come and talk to her.”

“Darling, what the hell can I do?

“You’re calming in a panic, isn’t he, Rick?”

“Yes,” said Ricky again turning white. “I don’t suppose you’re both going away, are you, Mummy?”

“You can come with us. You could look through the corridor window at the sea. It’s shiny with moonlight and Daddy and I will be just on the other side of the poor thing’s door. Her name’s Miss Truebody and she knows Daddy’s a policeman.”

“Well, I must say…” Alleyn began indignantly.

“We’d better hurry, hadn’t we?” Troy stood up, holding Ricky’s hand. He clung to her like a limpet.

At the far end of the corridor their own car attendant stood with two of his colleagues outside Miss Truebody’s door. They made dubious grimaces at one another and spoke in voices that were drowned by the racket of the train. When they saw Troy, they all took off their silver-braided caps and bowed to her. A doctor, they said, had been discovered in the troisième voiture and was now with the unfortunate lady. Perhaps Madame would join him. Their own attendant tapped on the door and with an ineffable smirk at Troy, opened it. “Madame!” he invited.

Troy went in, and Ricky feverishly transferred his hold to Alleyn’s hand. Together, they looked out of the corridor window.

The railway, in this part of the coast, followed an embankment a few feet above sea level and as Troy had said, the moon shone on the Mediterranean. A long cape ran out over the glossy water and near its tip a few points of yellow light showed in early-rising households. The stars were beginning to pale.

“That’s Cap St. Gilles,” Alleyn said. “Lovely, isn’t it, Rick?”

Ricky nodded. He had one ear tuned to his mother’s voice which could just be heard beyond Miss Truebody’s door.

“Yes,” he said, “it is lovely.” Alleyn wondered if Ricky was really as pedantically mannered a child as some of their friends seemed to think.