A chance encounter on a northbound train leads Professor Layton and his young friend Luke to once again team up with the hapless lawyer Phoenix Wright, now accompanied by his sweet little daughter Trucy. At first, the Professor's latest mystery seem...
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Quite frankly, with all the other items that had been haphazardly stuffed into the cheap business envelope, it may have been more efficient for this Great Thief to invest in a wax seal. Or perhaps an ink stamp somewhere on what little space remained around the bottom of the letter.
Admittedly that was a rather old-fashioned notion.
But then again, as his headwear indicated, Hershel Layton was a rather old-fashioned person.
The envelope he still held tempted him with its contents, but there was no way of telling how much time he had left to wait on this bench. Besides which, the north wind was blowing a light drizzle across the platform, so if he checked over this little dossier one last time, he'd only get a few sentences in before the paper was soaked to the point of uselessness.
There wasn't much else he could do besides slip it back into his coat and wait.
He folded the letter up and pressed it back into the envelope beside all the other papers that had been crammed in with it and rested it with the card on his lap as he cast his eyes around the station.
Surely he didn't have much longer to wait before he was allowed to board the train, did he? A nearby clock informed him that it was 7:12am and... Layton pulled his ticket out of his pocket and confirmed that yes, this train was due to depart at 7:15am, and forced back a yawn as he put it away for safety.
Somewhere on another platform, muffled by distance and the sleepiness clouding his mind, one of the newer train models gave a brief blast of its horn to tell those yet to board it that they were going to be late for work. From elsewhere came the rising whirs of an engine kicking into gear and another engine, one directly behind him, blew out a long hissing puff of steam that no doubt fluttered away into the drizzle.
Layton took a deep breath, trying to kick his mind into gear, and regretted it as his nostrils were filled with the stench of burning diesel and the hundreds of cups of coffee held by commuters all over the station.
From a speaker somewhere overhead came an announcement, muffled as all train station announcements tend to be but perfectly audible to those well-versed in the language of public transport tannoy systems:
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. The 7:15 express service to Aberdeen is now boarding on platform 7. I repeat; the 7:15 express service to Aberdeen is now boarding on platform 7. Thank you."
That was it. He couldn't wait any longer.
He pressed himself up to his feet and straightened his hat, and turned to find the nearest door that would let him onto the-
"Professor?"
There he was.
The voice was deeper, older, but unmistakable. Layton couldn't avoid a soft gasp of surprise as he saw the teen standing not five metres away from him, one hand resting on the handle of his suitcase and the other adjusting the flat cap that sat atop his mop of dark blond hair.
