Caught on the Train

I found myself paralyzed in my cabin on the sleeper train from Edinburgh to London, stunned by the sound of a knock at the door. The knocking grew more forceful, accompanied by a demanding voice.

“Tickets, please! Come on, lassie, tickets!” I wondered how he knew someone was inside, let alone my gender, but complying with the request, I reached for the latch. As I opened the door, it swung wide with a loud bang, revealing a man wielding a gun.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now back into the—ungh!”

A loud thud interrupted his command as a blunt object struck him from behind. He dropped his weapon and collapsed into my arms, and I instinctively let him fall to the floor. A woman stepped over the unconscious man, and it took me a moment to process who she was.

“Mrs. Marten?”

“Miss Taylor! Annie, right? Help me get him into the cabin.” I recognized her as the Head of Collection Services at the museum, identifiable by her fitted skirt and high he