could not overpower me by force, I thought
(and instinctively I squared my shoulders against the cushions, that he
might realise the impossibility of overpowering me), but I felt he had
enough 'science' to make me less than a match for him. I tried to look
cunning and determined. I longed for a moustache like his, to hide my
somewhat amiable mouth. I was thankful I could not see his mouth--could
not know the worst of the face that was staring at me in the lamplight.
And yet what could be worse than his eyes, gleaming from the deep
shadow cast by the brim of his top-hat? What deadlier than that square
jaw, with the bone so sharply delineated under the taut skin?

The train rushed on, noisily swaying through the silence of the night.
I thought of the unseen series of placid landscapes that we were
passing through, of the unconscious cottagers snoring there in their
beds, of the safe people in the next compartment to mine--to his. Not
moving a muscle, we sat there, we two, watching each other, like two
hostile cats. Or rather, I thought, he watched me as a snake watches a
rabbit, and I, like a rabbit, could not look away. I seemed to hear my
heart beating time to the train. Suddenly my heart was at a standstill,
and the double beat of the train receded faintly. The man was pointing
upwards...I shook my head. He had asked me in a low voice, whether he
should pull the hood across the lamp.

He was standing now with his back turned towards me, pulling his
hand-bag out of the rack. He had a furtive back--the back of a man who,
in his day, had borne many an alias. To this day I am ashamed that I
did not spring up and pinion him, there and then. Had I possessed one
ounce of physical courage, I should have done so. A coward, I let slip
the opportunity. I thought of the communication-cord, but how could I
move to it? He would be too quick for me. He would be very angry with
me. I would sit quite still and wait. Every moment was a long reprieve
to me now. Something might intervene to save me. There might be a
collision on the line. Perhaps he was a quite harmless man...I caught
his eyes, and shuddered...

His bag was open on his knees. His right hand was groping in it. (Thank
Heaven he had not pulled the hood over the lamp!) I saw him pull out
something--a limp thing, made of black cloth, not unlike the thing
which a dentist places over your mouth when laughing-gas is to be
administered. 'Laughing-gas, no laughing matter'--the i