"It is something which happened last night."
I felt her shiver. "I knew it. I felt there was something wrong when you came in, although you would not own there was."
"I was afraid to tell you."
She drew closer to me. Again her voice dropped to a whisper. "What was it, Tom?"
"It was something which happened in the train." I paused. My tongue seemed to stick in my throat. "When we left Brighton a woman got into my carriage."
"A woman?" She withdrew herself a little. Then I felt that I could not tell her who the woman was; at least, not then.
"She had been drinking. At least, so I suppose. As soon as the train started she began to quarrel."
"To quarrel?"
"Yes. I was afraid there would be a row. You know the express does not stop between London and Brighton. I did not know whether to pull the alarm-bell or not. I made up my mind to try to leave my carriage and get into the next."
"Do you mean while the train was moving?"