Murder on the Flying Scotsman by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online Page A

inside, fumblingly fastened the little brass catch, and handed it to her. ‘It’s
yours. I shan’t be taking many more journeys.’
    ‘Golly, thanks! And I’d love to come to tea. May I, Miss Dalrymple?’
    Seeing no harm in the unlikely friendship, Daisy assented – then wondered what Mrs. Fletcher would say if she found out.
    Belinda impulsively kissed the old man’s wrinkled cheek. ‘Off with you, baggage!’ he said, beaming. ‘And off with your jacket, Chandra,’ he was saying as Daisy
closed the door after Belinda. ‘I know your blood has grown accustomed to Scottish temperatures.’
    ‘He’s not an ogre,’ said Belinda. ‘I like him, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes, but I can imagine him being quite ogreish to people he dislikes!’
    ‘P’raps. What’s indigent mean?’
    ‘Poor.’
    ‘Mr. McGowan was poor when he went to India, even though his twin brother’s rich? That’s not fair! He had more fun, though. He told me some ripping stories about India.
What’s intexual indigestion?’
    ‘Intexual?’
    ‘Something like that. He said he didn’t want me to get it from too many stories.’
    ‘Intellectual indigestion? It’s what your mind gets from too many new ideas at once.’ Particularly if they were hard to swallow, Daisy thought.
    Their compartment was now empty. Daisy proposed a game of draughts, but Belinda was tired of sitting.
    ‘May I stand in the corridor for a while?’ she begged.
    ‘To watch the cows and trees on that side for a change? Yes, but don’t wander off again, please! Oh, wait a minute, you have a smut on your cheek. Here, let me get it off.’
Daisy delved in her handbag for a handkerchief, spat on the corner the way her nanny used to, and wiped away the fleck of soot, feeling very motherly. ‘That’s better.’
    Belinda hugged her, blushed, and went out to the corridor.
    Anne had lent Daisy two or three magazines. Now and then she glanced up from the glossy pages of the Tatler to check the whereabouts of her impetuous charge. A quarter of an hour or so
later, she heard Belinda say, ‘Hallo, Dr. Jagai.’
    The young doctor joined her, shrugging into his jacket. ‘Hallo, Miss . . . Fletcher, is it?’
    ‘Yes, but you can call me Belinda. I’m not really quite old enough to be Miss Fletcher yet.’
    ‘I’ll tell you a secret, Belinda: I’m such a new doctor that whenever someone addresses me as doctor, I still look round to see to whom they are talking.’
    Belinda laughed. So the earnest Dr. Jagai had a sense of humour, Daisy thought. With a quirk of the lips for her own impetuosity, not to mention curiosity, she invited him in.
    Now that she saw him properly, he looked tired. From her hospital days during the War, she remembered witnessing the exhausting life of a lowly houseman, always on call.
    ‘I shouldn’t really be in first class,’ he said.
    ‘Oh, never mind. The ticket inspector won’t come again till after York Do come and sit down. Are you going to Edinburgh?’
    ‘Yes, ma’am. I have friends there, and since I must go as far as York, I might as well go on to see them. Mr. McGowan told me to catch this train. I’ve been on duty since he
learnt of his brother’s illness, and he wanted to speak to me.’
    ‘A dictatorial gentleman!’
    Jagai smiled. ‘Undeniably, but who am I to complain after all his kindness and generosity? Especially in this instance.’ His solemn face lit up and he leaned forward in his
enthusiasm. ‘Mr. McGowan summoned me to tell me he’s going to rewrite his will to leave his brother’s wealth to found a medical clinic in India!’
    ‘Not to you?’
    ‘I shall be named as director of the charitable trust, and of the clinic. It’s my dearest dream, but I thought I should have to work and save for years before I could afford it.
He’ll set it up that way, rather than as a personal bequest, to make it more difficult for his family to contest the will.’
    ‘Clever!’ Daisy applauded. ‘It must be much harder