“Something of the sort, darling. However, that is of no real importance as far as this story goes. The only thing we must all remember is that when it is corkscrewing the train keeps on turning round and round.”

“What can you mean?”

“Cut out the comedy, Carolyn,” begged Mr. Meyer. “This is serious.”

“Darling, of course it is. You see, Mr. Alleyn, Alfie went out on the little platform and stood there and all the time the train kept turning corners very fast and it was all rather impressive. Alfie was very excited and thrilled with the view, although it was so dark he could not see much, except the other parts of the train corkscrewing above and below him. He heard a door bang, but he did not look round because he thought it was just someone going along the train. He was holding on very tight with both hands. Luckily. Because otherwise when this person pushed him he would have—”

“Here!” said Mr. Meyer firmly, “I’ll tell them. I was on the platform facing outwards. I noticed the iron door to the steps was opened back and there was nothing between me and God knows all. It was blowing a gale. I kind of knew people were going past me on their way through the train, but I didn’t look round. We came to one of these hairpin-bends and as we swung round someone kicked me on the behind. Hard. By God, I nearly went over. As nearly as damn’ it. I tell you I lurched out over the step. I grabbed at the door with my left hand but I must have pulled it away from the catch on the wall as if I was going through and shutting it after me. See what I mean? I clutched the platform rail with my right hand—just caught it close to the iron stanchion by the steps. It seemed to last a lifetime, that hanging outwards. Then the train swung round the opposite way and I got back. Of course when I was all right again and turned round the man had gone. God, I’m all to pieces. Look in that case there, Hailey. There’s a bottle of brandy.” He turned pale bulging eyes on Alleyn.

“What the hell do you make of that?”

“Extremely unpleasant,” said Alleyn.

“Unpleasant! Listen to him, will you!”

“My poor Alfie,” said his wife. “You shall have quantities of brandy. Pour it out, Hailey. There are glasses there, too. We shall all have brandy while Mr. Alleyn tells us who tried to assassinate my poor Pooh. Don’t spill it, Hailey. There! Now, Mr. Alleyn?”