The word, so completely unexpected, had the force of an order. Ben nodded.

“Just try to breathe normally. Don’t force it, okay?” Which came from where? An old first aid manual? How to tie a tourniquet.

He waited until Lasner had taken a breath-steady, not a rattlethen hurried back into the club car. And what excuse could he make? An agent expecting dinner. Ben looked into the dining car. Not there yet. No one he recognized, in fact. The Major must be hosting the bond drive table in the other dining car. Maybe a private party. Behind him, he heard the bathroom door close with a whoosh.

“There you are. Sol asked me to wait. Look, he’s sorry but he has to beg off dinner. Miss Goddard came back for him. You know Sol, he can’t say no to her.” This all in a rush, as if he were short of breath. “He said he’ll make it up to you. It’s just-”

“What? Just now?”

Ben shrugged. “I think she didn’t want to be alone with the Major. Sol couldn’t say no.”

“No,” Katz said, evidently used to excuses.

“He said he’d make it up to you.”

He left Katz standing in the dining car, wondering how, and raced back through the club car, pushing past the crowd at the bar. Lasner hadn’t moved, leaning against the window, holding on to the rail underneath, still white.

“All right, now let’s get you a doctor.”

“Next one,” Lasner said, pointing down the corridor toward a drawing room car, presumably his own. He leaned again on Ben. “No porters. They tip them.”

“Who?” Ben said as they started to move. Was Lasner becoming confused? Did that happen?

“Polly. All of them. They tip the porters.”

Meaning Paulette? Ben glanced at him, then let it go. “The pills are in your room?”

Lasner nodded, clutching the handrail as they moved down the car. “What did you tell him?”

“That Miss Goddard sent for you.”

“He buy it?”

“I think so. You shouldn’t even be moving.”