watcher is even now on this very same train?”
“It’s possible,” Joshua said. “Which is why Beatrice and I will wait on board until the last possible moment. If he does attempt to get off at that point to follow us, he will expose himself immediately. It will be easy enough to spot him in this small railway station.”
“He will know that,” Beatrice pointed out. “This is a very tiny village, as Hannah said. Very few people will get off here. Strangers in town are bound to stand out.”
“Precisely,” Joshua said. “In his shoes, I would stay on board until the next stop and then try to work my way back to Upper Dixton by private cab. By then, we will be gone.”
“Where are you going?” Hannah asked.
“We will hire a cab to take us to the next village, and from there we will go on to London.” Joshua smiled his cold smile. “It will be interesting to see if we pass him on the road.”
“It all sounds very complicated,” Hannah said uneasily.
“The trick to losing a watcher is to put yourself in the one place he cannot watch,” Joshua said. “His blind spot is always behind him.”
Beatrice raised her brows. “Is that another quote from Mr. Smith?”
“Sorry, I’m afraid so,” Joshua said.
Hannah’s mouth tightened in grim disapproval. “That dreadful Victor Hazelton.”
“I am aware of your opinion of the man,” Joshua said. He looked at Beatrice. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said.
He gripped his cane and started to move out of the compartment. Hannah put a hand on his arm to stop him. Her eyes were very serious.
“You do realize what you are doing by leaving this train alone with Beatrice,” she said in low tones. “I am aware that you are taking measures to ensure her safety, however—”
“Do not concern yourself, Hannah.” His voice was equally soft. “I know what I am about.”
Hannah looked at him a few seconds longer and then glanced once more at Beatrice. Evidently satisfied, she sat back against the cushions.
“Be careful, both of you,” she said. “We will be waiting in London.”
Beatrice got the feeling that she had just missed something in the conversation, but there was no time to analyze the situation. Joshua was urging her to move quickly along the narrow corridor. He followed her to the door.
“Now,” he said.
She descended the steps just as the conductor turned to put them up and jump aboard. He regarded her and Joshua with surprise.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, sir, but this isn’t your stop,” he said. “You’re for London.”
Beatrice summoned up a reassuring smile and raised her umbrella against the rain. “Change of plans, I’m afraid.”
“But your luggage, ma’am.”
Joshua put on his hat and came down the steps. “Arrangements have been made to collect the rest of our bags in London. My wife and I have decided to do some sightseeing here in Upper Dixton.”
The words my wife sent a small shockwave through Beatrice. By the time she had collected herself she and Joshua were on the platform, the conductor was on board, the door was closed and the train was pulling out of the station.
Beatrice turned to Joshua in disbelief, alarm stirring as it dawned on her just what that last exchange between Joshua and Hannah might have been about. None of her previous clients had ever been concerned about her reputation. She was a private inquiry agent, after all, not a high-ranking lady. The goal was to get her out of the house as soon as the investigation was completed.
But Joshua was not paying any attention to her. He was watching the doors of the railway carriages, waiting to see if anyone else elected to get off at the last possible moment.
Steam hissed. The train gathered speed. It rumbled out of the station and disappeared into the heavy mist.
“It appears that the watcher, if there is one, remained on board,” Beatrice ventured.
“So it seems,” Joshua said. He looked at the lone cab waiting in the street. The driver was hunched under a heavily caped coat and low-crowned hat. The horse stood stoically, one hoof cocked, head lowered against the steady downpour. “With luck this cab will take us to the next village.”
The driver looked down from the box. “Can I help ye, sir?”
“The motion of the train was making my wife ill so we wish to travel to the next town by cab.”
“Sorry, sir, afraid that’s not possible.” The driver sounded genuinely regretful. “The roads are rivers of mud. No one’s leaving Upper Dixton