He didn’t want to think how much it must have hurt, but he managed to move her into a sitting position. Her face was pale with pain, her dark hair spilling out of its pins and falling over her shoulders. Giving her a few moments to collect herself and steady her breathing, he said, “Now you must stand.”

“Do you see my shoe? If I’m to walk out of here—the splinters—”

He looked around, and there was the shoe under the seat. He gave it to her, then took it back and put it on her bare foot himself, tying the laces.

“All right. Let me help with your weight. Hold on to me with your good arm, and I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

He tried, but she fainted before he could lift her to her feet. While she was unconscious, he carried her closer to the door of the next compartment and then through it.

But the red-faced man wasn’t there. It was someone else saying sharply, “Here, what do you think you’re doing?”

His shirt was torn and bloody, his trousers ripped to the knee, and blood dripped from a cut on his ear. “I’m a doctor,” he went on. “She may have internal injuries, broken ribs.”

“It’s her shoulder,” Rutledge said, “either broken or dislocated.”

“Let me see.” But as he stepped toward Rutledge, the car swayed again, the sound of metal rending and wood snapping. “Dear God! Is there anyone else in there?”

“I saw a man. He’s dead.”

“Can you be sure?”

“I’m from Scotland Yard. Yes, I’m sure.”

“All right, pass her to me. We can’t stand on ceremony now.”

Rutledge did as he was told, lifting Meredith’s limp body through the outer door, barely on its hinges, and clear of the carriage. The sun touched Meredith’s face, and her eyelids fluttered. The doctor, bracing himself with the help of the red-faced man, took her from Rutledge and then, between them, lowered her safely to the ground.

The doctor knelt and felt her shoulder. “You’re right. Dislocated. Let’s get her away from here. We’re collecting cases under that tree over there. Can you carry her that far?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then I’ll keep going and come back to you.”

“Have you seen a man—with a young boy? I’ve come to find them—”

“A good few men are all right. I haven’t seen a boy among them.” The doctor helped him lift Meredith Channing again, bracing her bad arm, and then disappeared into the carriage Rutledge had just left, to look at the man.