4
- 4 -
A savage thumping ricocheted around the compartment, and Daventree’s eyes sprung open. His mouth was clammy, and his tongue brushed against the coating on his teeth.
The hammering sounded again, now accompanied by a voice. “You awake yet?” It was uncouth, with poor annunciation. The man’s tone reminded Daventree of the few occasions he’d been persuaded to attend performances where actors called upon to play ruffians and other unsavoury characters.
But this man didn’t sound like he was acting.
“Have we arrived?” Daventree asked, and then coughed. It was too warm in the compartment.
“Course we’ve b****y arrived. Don’t feel the train moving, do you?”
“I do apologise. I must have fallen asleep. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“You’ll be with me a b****y mite sooner than that. Co
