The Trip To Judgement

Chapter 10

Inside, Stanley was lighting the corridor oil lamps and he flattened against the windows as Cybil brushed past.

"Have a pleasant evenin', ma'am," he grinned. "Anythin' you need, just pull that blue cord in your compartment and I'll be down right smartly. It rings in the kitchen."

"Thankyou, Stanley."

"My special pleasure, ma'am." Cybil entered her room and closed the door and Stanley carried on lighting the lamps, their amber glow reflecting in the night black windows.

"Excuse me, Stanley isn't it?" He jumped nervously not realizing anyone had come up behind him. "Could you help me get the window open in my compartment? My back is still killing me..."

"Sure Mister Soughton, which one are you?"

"The last one there. Here's my key."

"How come they don't call you doctor?"

"I'm really a pathologist. It just saves a lot of embarrassing conversation."

"You mean you work with dead—"

"I'm officially along to record the verdict of death for the government." He waved away any more talk and pointed to the door.

Stanley opened the door and stepped inside, stopping short with a surprised grunt.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Peter. I guess I just gave Stanley here a little fright."

Peter's face paled and he glanced nervously at Stanley. "Wha- what are you doing... how did you get in here?"

"Actually, sir, it wasn't locked," Stanley murmured, handing him the key and slipping outside.

Jean slid over to the corner of the bunk and patted the cover beside her. "Sit, Peter. I'll give your back a good massage."

"I don't want a massage. I want you out of here." He leaned on the compartment wall for support, one hand jammed into his side against the soreness.

Jean sighed loudly and stood up, picking up her handbag and pouting as she crossed to the door. She paused in front of him and smiled as he tensed, holding his breath.

"Sorry you feel that way, Peter. I thought we really were into something... I know you were." Her wicked grin brought a flush to his cheeks and she pushed her elbow lightly into his stomach as she left.

Harriet Dingwall looked at the remaining diners in embarrassment. Seth was railing on about the waste of time and money used to do all the traveling and having victim's hearings when the son-of-a-bitch was going to hang anyway. She placed a hand on his arm and whispered a plea but he shook it off and continued to drink and complain.

"I would have thought having lost someone yourself you might be more sympathetic to the grieving loved ones." Howden fired his stuffy volley across the aisle.

"What the hell would you know about grief, you're nothin' more than a scavenging jackal picking at that butcher's leftovers."

"Seth!" Harriet looked horrified.

"Now wait just a minute!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Abner Wentworth raised his hands in placation. "This is not a time to vent personal opinions about such a delicate subject. Let's just let those who will, grieve and those who feel differently- uhm- ah... feel differently."

"Bah!" Seth waved a dismissing hand and pushed away from the table. "If it was up to me I'd go up there and do the bastard right now. Save everybody a lot of trouble." He reeled awkwardly down the car and out.