4_50 From Paddington - Agatha Christie [1]
“Serving last tea now,” said an attendant, whisking open the corridor door like a jinn. Mrs. McGillicuddy had already partaken of tea at a large department store. She was for the moment amply nourished. The attendant went on down the corridor uttering his monotonous cry. Mrs. McGillicuddy looked up at the rack where her various parcels reposed, with a pleased expression. The face towels had been excellent value and just what Margaret wanted, the space gun for Robby and the rabbit for Jean were highly satisfactory, and that evening coatee was just the thing she herself needed, warm but dressy. The pullover for Hector, too…her mind dwelt with approval on the soundness of her purchases.
Her satisfied gaze returned to the window, a train travelling in the opposite direction rushed by with a screech, making the windows rattle and causing her to start. The train clattered over points and passed through a station.
Then it began suddenly to slow down, presumably in obedience to a signal. For some minutes it crawled along, then stopped, presently it began to move forward again. Another up-train passed them, though with less vehemence than the first one. The train gathered speed again. At that moment another train, also on a down-line, swerved inwards towards them, for a moment with almost alarming effect. For a time the two trains ran parallel, now one gaining a little, now the other. Mrs. McGillicuddy looked from her window through the windows of the parallel carriages. Most of the blinds were down, but occasionally the occupants of the carriages were visible. The other train was not very full and there were many empty carriages.
At the moment when the two trains gave the illusion of being stationary, a blind in one of the carriages flew up with a snap. Mrs. McGillicuddy looked into the lighted first-class carriage that was only a few feet away.
Then she drew her breath in with a gasp and half-rose to her feet.
Standing with his back to the window and to her was a man. His hands were round the throat of a woman who faced him, and he was slowly, remorselessly, strangling her. Her eyes were starting from their sockets, her face was purple and congested. As Mrs. McGillicuddy watched fascinated, the end came; the body went limp and crumpled in the man’s hands.
At the same moment, Mrs. McGillicuddy’s train slowed down again and the other began to gain speed. It passed forward and a moment or two later it had vanished from sight.
Almost automatically Mrs. McGillicuddy’s hand went up to the communication cord, then paused, irresolute. After all, what use would it be ringing the cord of the train in which she was travelling? The horror of what she had seen at such close quarters, and the unusual circumstances, made her feel paralysed. Some immediate action was necessary—but what?
The door of her compartment was drawn back and a ticket collector said, “Ticket, please.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy turned to him with vehemence.
“A woman has been strangled,” she said. “In a train that has just passed. I saw it.”
The ticket collector looked at her doubtfully.
“I beg your pardon, madam?”
“A man strangled a woman! In a train. I saw it—through there.” She pointed to the window.
The ticket collector looked extremely doubtful.
“Strangled?” he said disbelievingly.
“Yes, strangled! I saw it, I tell you. You must do something at once!”
The ticket collector coughed apologetically.
“You don’t think, madam, that you may have had a little nap and—er—” he broke off tactfully.
“I have had a nap, but if you think this was a dream, you’re quite wrong. I saw it, I tell you.”
The ticket collector’s eyes dropped to the open magazine lying on the seat. On the exposed page was a girl being strangled whilst a man with a revolver threatened the pair from an open doorway.
He said persuasively: “Now don’t you think, madam, that you’d been reading an exciting story, and that you just dropped off, and awaking a little confused—”
Mrs. McGillicuddy interrupted him.
“I saw it,” she said. “I was as wide awake as you are. And I looked