Then Father Anthony smiled at Della and asked her, “Is the purpose of your journey merely to see the beauty of Rome?”
“No,” she said. “I have personal business with the Prince Sanzio.”
“Ah,” the fat man said approvingly. “Then all the wonders of the city will be a bonus! How fortunate you will be!”
“I hope we may see you when we reach the city,” she said. “I’m sure there are many wonders you could point out to us that we might otherwise miss.”
Father Anthony took out another cigar and went about lighting it. He said, “I shall have to report to the Papal officer whom I serve. But when my business with him is completed I shall have a few days. I’d be glad to spend part of them showing you around.”
She said, “Thank you! You can always reach us at Prince Sanzio’s palace.”
“I shall write that down,” the priest said and did so. Then he sat back puffing contentedly on his cigar.
Madame Guioni sat glaring at him for a few minutes. Then she jumped up and exclaimed, “I’m going to bed. Better to be there sleepless than to sit here and be asphyxiated by cigar smoke!” And she marched out.
Father Anthony removed the cigar from his mouth. “Am I annoying any of the rest of you?”
Aunt Isobel quite surprisingly said, “It is a fine cigar and I rather like its smoke. Continue, Father.”
Della smiled and added, “I think that is true for all of us.”
The fat priest said, “Then I shall continue to enjoy myself.”
Della had an idea her aunt had only been so agreeable because it gave her a chance to disagree with the dreadful Madame Guioni. The two had at once become antagonists without any campaign being declared.
After a while Della saw both Aunt Isobel and Father Anthony nodding in light sleep. Then the plump priest rose and excused himself and announced he was also ready to retire. Goodnights were said and he went to the sleeping car.
Henry told her, “I’m going out to the end of the car. I want to stand on the platform and get some fresh air before going to bed.”
“Go ahead,” she said. “I shall be quite safe here with Aunt Isobel.”
He stood up uncertainly and said, “You promise me you won’t leave the compartment.”
“No. I shall be right here,” she said.
“I won’t be long,” he told her. He opened the door and made his way along the corridor until he was out of sight.
When the black curtain of night had fallen Aunt Isobel pulled down the blind at her window. She now rested her head back on the high seat and stared across at Della.
The old woman said, “I shall count the hours until we are back in London.”
“You’ll count a good many,” Della warned her. “We’ve only started on our journey.”
“It’s a mistake!” Aunt Isobel sighed, returning to a familiar complaint.
“I think you should go to bed, you look worn out,” Della said. “I’ll accompany you in to your sleeping section.”
“You promised Henry you wouldn’t leave here!”
“So I did!”
Aunt Isobel struggled to her feet. “I can manage very well on my own. I have my ticket to give to the porter.”
“Make sure,” Della said.
“See!” Her aunt took it triumphantly out of her pocketbook. “I’m not all as senile as you seem to think!”
She smiled. “I don’t think any such thing.” And she rose to kiss her aunt and see her on her way.
At the compartment door, Aunt Isobel told her, “You go back and sit down. I don’t want you to move until Henry returns.”
“I won’t,” Della promised, sitting down again.
Now she was alone in the compartment. There was just a slight smell of stale tobacco smoke still in the air to remind her of Father Anthony. She felt she might learn more about the jeweled Madonna if she had a chance to question him further. He had held a responsible post in one of the Vatican museums and so probably knew any of the really valuable Madonnas by description.
She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to relax, but for some unknown reason she could not. Tension rose in her and she became restless. Being alone in the compartment late at night was not all that pleasant an experience. She began to wish that Henry would soon put in an appearance.
A uniformed trainman came by and poked his head in the door to inquire in French, “Does Mademoiselle not have a sleeping berth?”
“I have,” she explained. “I’m waiting for a friend to return to say goodnight.”
The trainman smiled knowingly. “Very well, mademoiselle, it is your choice. I merely wished to be of help if I might.”
“Thank you,” she said. And the trainman went on.
She sat back, nervously thinking that Henry had been gone far too long. Then she began truly to worry. Could something have happened to him? Was it possible that he’d had some sort of accident? The thought of this made her tremble! And she became angry at herself for not going with him.
There were open platforms at the juncture of some of the cars and he had sought out one of these. But such places could be dangerous with the swaying of the train. They were not lighted and were fairly narrow with steps descending on either side of them. A natural setting for an accident of some sort.
She became so alarmed she stood up, bracing herself against the swaying of the speeding train by placing a hand on the top of the seat. Just as she did so she was relieved to see the figure of Henry come into view in the corridor. He came to the door of the compartment and entered. The moment she saw his ashen face she knew something had happened.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, going to him.
He took her by the arms and said in a taut voice, “I’m lucky to be alive! To be here with you now!”
“What do you mean?” she cried. “Tell me?”
“I went out to the open platform,” Henry said. “I enjoyed the cool wind and was astonished at the train’s speed! We’re really moving along! I decided to take a step down and support myself by holding onto the railing on either side of the steps.”
“And?”
“I’d barely stepped down when I was given an almighty shove by someone! I lost hold of the railing with my left hand and someone cracked my knuckles as I clung on with my right!”
“Oh no!” she said in alarm, aware that they were not finished with the menace yet.
“I turned to see who my unknown assailant was and before I could manage it, I was struck on the back of the head by someone’s iron fist. I nearly lost hold altogether. My right hand slid down the rail and I ended crouching on the last step just a few feet from falling off the speeding train!”
“Then what?”
“I heard someone call out from the platform,” Henry said. “A moment later hands helped me back up and I found myself facing an irate trainman and receiving a safety lecture!”
“Did you tell him what happened? That someone had tried to force you off the train?”
“I made an attempt, but it didn’t impress him. His view was that another idiot Englishman had stumbled from the platform and almost lost his life!”
Her eyes were wide with fear. “But someone did try to take your life!”
“Nothing is more sure than that!”
“You must report it to the conductor!”
“It’s already been done,” he said grimly. “The trainman took me to him. I could tell by the way they reacted that they considered it all my own fault. And they insisted I had no right to be out there by myself.”
“It was unwise,” she said.
“Not under normal circumstances.”
“These are not normal circumstances,” was her bitter reply. “You should know that.”
“I’ve been reminded of it.”
Della gave him a worried look. “I was beginning to have a funny feeling. A sense of danger without knowing exactly what it might be.”
“All the other attacks have been directly against you,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“From now on be prepared,” she warned him.
“I will be.”
“You are protecting me. So you stand between them and me. After they settle with you they’ll go for me next!”
“Pleasant thought!”
“It seemed we’d at least be safe on the train.”
“Forget that,” he said.
“I know,” Della said. “So we have an enemy on board. I wonder who?”
“We’re not liable to find that out unless we’re terribly lucky,” the young lawyer said.
Della shuddered. “I don’t think I can go in there and sleep!”
“You must,” he said. “You have to have your rest and you should be safer in there than here. There is a porter on duty all night.”
“And you’ll be directly across the aisle from me,” she said.
“Yes.”
She looked up into his eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if they’d killed you!”
“They didn’t,” he said with a wan smile and kissed her. “Now come along before there are more problems.”
Della was in no mood to stand there continuing the discussion. She let him escort her to her upper bunk and they bade each other goodnight. She knew she needed sleep badly but worried that it mightn’t come.
After what seemed an interminable time she finally drifted off. But her sleep was broken by a series of terrifying dreams. She suffered the ordeal of her rape again, down to the last dreadful, cruel detail. And she saw the wild eyes of her attacker and felt his iron grip as he handled her like a cloth doll.
She swallowed in her sleep and opened her eyes as she came partly awake to feel a growing pressure on her throat. Panic swept through her as she gradually came to understand that a hairy hand had pushed through the drawn curtains of her sleeping berth and was now firmly holding her throat!
She could see nothing! The berth was in utter darkness! But in her ear there came a hissed whisper, “The Madonna! What did you do with it? Is it in your luggage or back in England?”
“Please!” she strained to breathe as the hand tightened on her neck.
“Where is it?”
“Don’t know!” she croaked in a low whisper.
The hand cruelly increased its pressure. “You are lying! Little fool!”
Her attacker overplayed his role, for she could stand no more. At that moment she blacked out into a faint. And when she came to her forehead was drenched in perspiration and her throat hurt. But the menacing hand was no longer there throttling her.
After a moment she raised herself up and explored her aching throat with her fingers. Then she hastily slipped on her robe and slippers and, opening the curtains to the dimly lighted, swaying car, let herself down to the corridor by stepping on the edge of Aunt Isobel’s bunk below.
She took a quick glance in at her sleeping aunt to make sure she was all right. Then she let the black curtain drop back and stood in the rocking corridor staring at the dozens of black-curtained sections reminiscent of shelves in a crypt. She knew which one was Henry’s and went to it.
She touched his arm and spoke his name.
The young lawyer opened his eyes at once. He gave her a worried look. “What is it?”
“More trouble,” she told him.
He was already on his way out of the berth. Reaching for his robe and putting it on over his pajamas, he asked in a low voice, “What now?”
“Someone came after me!”
“How?”
She told him, ending with, “I fainted or I don’t know what would have happened next.”
Henry looked angry. “I thought this car was properly guarded!”
“Whoever it was got in and threatened me for several minutes,” she said.
“Let us see if we can find the porter,” Henry said with annoyance.
She followed him down to the end of the car. And in the small section where the porter had his seat they found him fast asleep.
Henry stared grimly at the snoring porter and said, “There is your answer!”
“I see,” she said.
He shook the porter and when the fellow woke up confused and wild-eyed, demanded to know, “How long have you been asleep?”
The porter was now recovered and apologetic. “Only a minute or two, monsieur. I have had to do double duty. I’ve been without sleep for almost thirty-six hours!”
Henry scowled at him. “That doesn’t matter. You have neglected your duty and while you were asleep someone attacked this young woman.”
The porter looked at her in disbelief. “It is hard to imagine with all asleep.” He waved to the car. “We never have any incidents.”
“Well, you’ve had one now,” Henry told him. “I shall be forced to report you to the conductor.”
The man shrugged. “As you wish, sir!”
The conductor was thin, crabbed and too old for his trying job. He greeted them with a look of annoyance on his wrinkled face and said to Henry, “So you are back with another complaint?”
“Not for myself,” Henry said.
“That is a wonder!” the conductor said with sarcasm as they all sat in one of the deserted compartments.
“This may seem like nonsense to you but it is not to us,” Henry told the man.
The uniformed old man eyed him bleakly. “That is quite clear.”
“You do not understand,” Henry went on. “I’m a lawyer accompanying this woman and her aunt to protect them.”
The conductor said, “Then why expect me to do your work?”
“Because we are on your train!” Henry said with some anger. “These attacks began in London!”
“If the London police were not able to deal with them what can you expect of me?” the old man wanted to know.
“We have paid a good price for safe transportation,” Henry said. “That includes proper security on this train. You have not provided it!”
The porter, silent up until now, protested, “I was on duty every moment. Just for a few seconds I fell asleep and Monsieur happened to come on me then.”
Henry shot him an irate glance. “You do not know how long you were asleep!”
The conductor said, “I shall make a report and turn it in.”
“Can’t you make a search of the train for some hidden criminal?”
The conductor eyed him with ugly anger. “No one is on board this train who shouldn’t be!”
Henry said, “Then one of your regular passengers must be the criminal!”
The conductor’s thin, wrinkled face showed scorn. “I say, nonsense, monsieur!”
“You are being unfair,” Della told him. “And you are taking a grave risk that we might be killed on your train. Then what will you do?”
The conductor glared at her in silence. Then he asked, “Would you ask that I rouse up every passenger and question them?”