Bond glanced at the eyes in the big brown face. Again the furnace door was ajar. The red glare shone out and was extinguished.
`Good thing you spotted him. This may be a tough night. You’d better stick by us from now on. We mustn’t leave the girl alone.’
`That’s what I thought, old man.’
They had dinner. It was a silent meal. Nash sat beside the girl and kept his eyes on his plate. He held his knife like a fountain pen and frequently wiped it on his fork. He was clumsy in his movements. Half way through the meal, he reached for the salt and knocked over Tatiana’s glass of Chianti. He apologized profusely. He made a great show of calling for another glass and filling it.
Coffee came. Now it was Tatiana who was clumsy. She knocked over her cup. She had gone very pale and her breath was coming quickly.
`Tatiana!’ Bond half rose to his feet. But it was Captain Nash who jumped up and took charge.
`Lady’s come over queer,’ he said shortly. `Allow me.’ He reached down and put an arm round the girl and lifted her to her feet. Til take her back to the compartment. You’d better look after the bag. And there’s the bill. I can take care of her till you come.’
`Is all right,’ protested Tatiana with the slack lips of deepening unconsciousness. `Don’ worry, James, I lie down.’ Her head lolled against Nash’s shoulder. Nash put one thick arm round her waist and manoeuvred her quickly and efficiently down the crowded aisle and out of the restaurant car.
Bond impatiently snapped his fingers for the waiter. Poor darling. She must be dead beat. Why hadn’t he thought of the strain she was going through? He cursed himself for his selfishness. Thank heavens for Nash. Efficient sort of chap, for all his uncouthness.
Bond paid the bill. He took up the heavy little bag and walked as quickly as he could down the crowded train.
He tapped softly on the door of No. 7. Nash opened the door. He came out with his finger on his lips. He closed the door behind him. `Threw a bit of a faint,’ he said. `She’s all right now. The beds were made up. She’s gone to sleep in the top one. Been a bit much for the girl I expect, old man.’
Bond nodded briefly. He went into the compartment. A hand hung palely down from under the sable coat. Bond stood on the bottom bunk and gently tucked the hand under the corner of the coat. The hand felt very cold. The girl made no sound.
Bond stepped softly down. Better let her sleep. He went into the corridor.
Nash looked at him with empty eyes. `Well, I suppose we’d better settle in for the night. I’ve got my book.’ He held it up. `War and Peace. Been trying to plough through it for years. You take the first sleep, old man. You look pretty flaked out yourself. I’ll wake you up when I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.’ He gestured with his head at the door of No. 9. `Hasn’t shown yet. Don’t suppose he will if he’s up to any monkey tricks.’ He paused. `By the way, you got a gun, old man?’
`Yes. Why, haven’t you?’
Nash looked apologetic. `Fraid not. Got a Luger at home, but it’s too bulky for this sort of job.’
`Oh, well,’ said Bond reluctantly. `You’d better take mine. Come on in.’
They went in and Bond shut the door. He took out the Beretta and handed it over. `Eight shots,’ he said softly. `Semi-automatic. It’s on safe.’
Nash took the gun and weighed it professionally in his hand. He clicked the safe on and off.
Bond hated someone else touching his gun. He felt naked without it. He said gruffly, `Bit on the light side, but it’ll kill if you put the bullets in the right places.’
Nash nodded. He sat down near the window at the end of the bottom bunk. `I’ll take this end,’ he whispered. `Good field of fire.’ He put his book down on his lap and settled himself.