Night Train to Memphis Read Online Free PDF

was sure – well, almost sure
– he couldn’t be the real Foggington-Smythe. Not that an Egyptologist couldn’t be a criminal; scholars are no more noble than the next man. But not even John would have time to
lecture, write several ponderous tomes, and carry on a career as a master thief.
    Would he?
    I looked up from the list to see someone plodding towards me. One of the bright bags was slung over her shoulder. She must have spotted mine. She was the type that would notice things like that
– a woman of a certain age, of medium height and stocky frame, with unblinking grey eyes under heavy brows. She had to be English; her fair skin was already pink, though it glistened with sun
shield, and she was wearing a long-sleeved tan blouse and a shapeless khaki skirt that reached almost to her ankles. She looked familiar, and of course I knew why; I had seen her type in a number
of British films: the housekeeper, the headmistress, the stocky spinster who is either the detective or a leading suspect.
    She stamped up to me, frowning. Suddenly I felt very young. Her expression brought back painful memories of my great-aunt Ermintrude, who had disapproved of everything about me and had never
bothered to conceal her opinion.
    ‘One of us, are you, dear?’ she inquired, indicating the bag. ‘You must be a newcomer, so I thought I ought to make certain you know where the bus is and that it will be
leaving shortly; you’d best come along with me, you don’t want to miss it, you shouldn’t be alone in a place like this, these natives will take advantage of an attractive young
woman, my name is Tregarth, call me Jen. How’d ja do?’
    I said brilliantly, ‘Hi.’
    ‘And where is your hat?’ Jen looked at me severely. ‘Most unwise of you to come out without one. You have a nice colour, but the sun is deadly here, you risk heat prostration
or sunstroke.’
    ‘I forgot,’ I said meekly. ‘I do have one. A hat. I forgot it.’
    ‘Well, don’t do it again. What did you say your name was?’
    ‘Vicky. Vicky Bliss.’ There was no reason for me to be coy about it. She’d find out in a few hours.
    ‘You are not on the passenger list.’ Her tone made it sound like an accusation.
    ‘No. I joined the cruise at the last minute. A friend of mine had to cancel, owing to illness, and – ’
    ‘I see.’ Her face relaxed. The expression wasn’t anything like a smile, but it was probably as close as she could come. ‘Glad to see another young person on board. Most
of the passengers are practically senile. My son and his wife will be pleased to have someone their own age to talk to. Not that they . . .’ She looked up, over my shoulder, and the change in
her face made me stare. So she could smile. ‘Ah, but here they are. Looking for me, I expect. My dears, allow me to introduce . . .’
    I didn’t hear the rest of it. When I turned, my ears went dead, the way they do after a sudden change in altitude.
    She couldn’t have been more than eighteen – twenty, at the outside. Her skin had that exquisite English fairness and her hair was a mass of cloudy brown curls framing her
heart-shaped face. I saw that much, and the fact that the top of her head barely reached his chin, and that he had gone dead-white under his tan and that his eyes were as flat and opaque as blue
circles painted on paper.
    The girl smiled and spoke. My ears popped midway through the speech, and I caught the last woods, ‘. . . call me Mary. This . . .’ She tilted her head and looked up at him, her eyes
shining. ‘This is John.’
    He had himself under control, except for his colour; he always had trouble with that. His voice was cool and steady. ‘How do you do. We’d better hurry; the others have gone on.
Mother – ’
    She waved away the arm he offered. ‘No, darling. I’m perfectly capable of walking a few more yards unassisted. You look a little . . . Are you feeling well?’ His brows drew
together, and she said hurriedly,