“We are endeavouring to—”

“Yes, I know,” I snapped. “Is there some place we can sit out of this heat?”

“I could, if you wish, have you taken to your train. I will, of course, remain here until the matter is made straight.”

More likely he would wait until our backs were turned and make off home, I thought sourly, preparing to dig in my heels. But Holmes, to my surprise, agreed. “I can’t see that our presence or absence will make the trunk appear any more rapidly. Mr Cook can be trusted to see the matter through. If necessary we can replace most of what you’ll need in Delhi.”

The small man practically melted in obsequity. “Oah, yes, sir, I will not sleep until I see the trunk of this good lady. I will personally see that it is delivered by hand to you in Delhi. I will not fail you,” he vowed, then rather spoilt it by adding as an afterthought, “if the trunk is on board the boat.”

I did not see where else it could be, but I bit back the remark, reminding myself that I had the clothing I had worn on the ship; I would not go naked.

Although, with my clothes already clinging against my skin as if I’d run several brisk laps through a steam-room, nakedness was not altogether unattractive. Indeed, the very idea of woollens was repugnant. I should miss my revolver, yes, but we had Holmes’ gun, and his box of magic equipment. If ever I needed something warmer than sheer lawn, I would buy it.

We oozed onto the train, our compartment dim and shuttered against the sun. I headed for the nearest sofa, tripped over a shallow tin tray that someone had abandoned smack in the middle of the floor, and sprawled onto the heat-sticky leather cushions. “Who the hell left that thing there?” I grumbled, neither expecting nor receiving an answer. I wrenched off my topee, threw it across the room in petulance, and lay back, grateful at least that the floor was not tossing underfoot. Yet. After a time, I dashed the damp tendrils of hair from my forehead and told Holmes grimly, “This compartment is far too big for two persons. If our companions are the Goodhearts, I’m warning you now, I shall walk to Delhi.”

“I believe you’ll find that Mycroft has exerted his authority to grant us solitude.”

“God, I hope so.”

At my tone, Holmes turned to look at me. I shut my eyes so I couldn’t see his raised eyebrow.

“It occurs to me,” he said, “that I have neglected to warn you against one of the dangers of life in India.”

I jerked upright, expecting a cobra or a scorpion, but he was shaking his head.