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and said: i never met them, of course. Like that, were they?'
    'No, dammit, they weren't.' Claremont slashed viciously at the side of his riding boot and barely repressed his wince of pain. 'Oakland and Newell were two of the finest officers I've ever had serve under me. But no exceptions, no exceptions. Fine officers, all the same, fine officers – Come on, Marshal. Time we were gone.'
    Pearce boarded the train. Claremont looked back to check that the horse wagon doors were closed, then turned and raised his hand. Banlon gave an acknowledging wave from his cab, moved inside and opened the steam regulator. The driving wheels slipped once, twice, three times; then they began to bite.

THREE
    By dusk, the troop train had left Reese City and the level plateau on which it stood So far behind that both were completely lost to sight. The high plain had now given way to the foothills of the true mountain country and the train was climbing gently up a long, wide, pine-wooded valley, the undulations of the track following closely those of the rock-strewn river alongside which it ran. The heavens were dark, there was no trace of the afterglow of sunset that must have been hidden behind those lowering clouds; there would be no stars, that night, and no moon; the leaden sky promised only one thing – snow.
    The occupants of the officers' day compartment, understandably enough, displayed a minimum of concern for the chill bleakness and plainly deteriorating weather in the world beyond their windows. Cocooned as they were in warmth and ease and comfort, it seemed not only pointless but downright wrong to dwell upon the rigours without. Luxury is a pervasive anodyne and, for what was supposed to be an army troop train, the officers' compartment was unquestionably very luxurious indeed. There were two deep couches with split arm-rests at the front and back, and several scattered armchairs, all splendidly upholstered in buttoned-down brushed green velvet. The embroidered looped-back window curtains, held in place by tasselled silken cords, were made of what appeared to be the same material. The carpet was rust-coloured and deep of pile. There were several highly polished mahogany tables in the vicinity of the couches and chairs. In the right-hand front corner was a liquor cabinet, which was clearly not there for the purposes of display. The entire compartment was bathed in a warm amber glow from the gimballed and gleaming copper oil-lamps.
    There were eight occupants of the compartment, seven of them with glasses in their hands. Nathan Pearce, seated beside Marica on the rear couch, had a glass of whisky, while she held a glass of port wine. On the front couch, the Governor and Colonel Claremont, and in two of the three armchairs, Dr Molyneux and Major O'Brien all held whisky glasses. In the third armchair the Rev. Theodore Peabody had a glass of mineral water and an expression of righteous superiority. The only person without a refreshment of any kind was John Deakin. Apart from the fact that it would have been unthinkable to offer hospitality to a criminal of such note, he would in any case have found it physically impossible to raise a glass to his lips as both hands were bound behind his back. His ankles, too, were tied. He was sitting on the floor, most uncomfortably hunched, close by the passageway leading to the night compartments. Apart from Marica, who cast him an occasionally troubled glance, none of the others present appeared to feel that Deakin's presence there constituted a jarring note. On the frontier, life was cheap and suffering so commonplace as hardly to merit notice, far less sympathy.
    Nathan Pearce lifted his glass. 'Your very good health, gentlemen. My word. Colonel, I never knew the army travelled in such style. No wonder our taxes–'
    Claremont was curt. 'The army, Marshal, does not travel in such style. This is Governor Fairchild's private coach. Behind your back are the two sleeping compartments normally