ThreeHe slept most of the way, the rhythmic movement of the train helping him rest, oblivious to the rolling landscape, the changing scenery, the weather gradually growing brighter, and much hotter. When the train lurched and slowed down, he stirred and found himself sitting opposite two grizzled old men swathed in black coats, faces covered with tangled beards, their stares disturbingly piercing. Simms stretched and pressed his face against the window, anxious to gain his bearings. He saw nothing he recognized so he turned hopefully to the men opposite. “Do either of you two gentlemen know where we are?”
A passenger across the aisle leaned forward. “They don't understand you, sir. They're French.”
Simms frowned, looked from the passenger back to the two Frenchmen. He sighed, shot the ma
