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“Yes, wasn’t that fortunate? Still, I’m sure the board would expect us to abide by the regulations, however inconvenient that might prove to be.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“I say so.”
Ross kept looking anxiously out of the window, and didn’t smile until The Newcastle Flyer shot past twenty minutes later, giving them two prolonged peeps of its whistle. Even so, he realized that if they arrived at King’s Cross at around 8:40, as Angus had predicted, Diego would still have more than enough time to reach a phone box on the station, call his broker and withdraw the proposed sale of his father’s shares before the market opened at nine.
“All done, sir,” said Angus. “Can I tell the driver to get a move on, because one of our passengers is threatening to sue British Railways if the train doesn’t get to London before nine.”
Ross didn’t need to ask which passenger was making the threat. “Carry on, Angus,” he said reluctantly before closing the door of his compartment, not sure what more he could do to hold the train up for at least another twenty minutes.
The Night Scotsman made several more unscheduled stops as The Newcastle Flyer pulled in to disgorge and pick up passengers at Durham, Darlington, York and Doncaster.
There was a knock on the door and the steward entered.
“What’s the latest, Angus?”
“The man who’s been making all the fuss about getting to London on time is asking if he can leave the train when the Flyer stops at Peterborough.”
“No, he cannot,” said Ross, “because this train isn’t scheduled to stop at Peterborough, and in any case, we’ll be standing some way outside the station, and therefore putting his life at risk.”
“Regulation forty-nine c?”
“So if he attempts to leave the train, it’s your duty to forcefully restrain him. Regulation forty-nine f. After all,” added Ross, “we wouldn’t want the poor man to be killed.”
“Wouldn’t we, sir?”
“And how many more stops are there after Peterborough?”
“None, sir.”
“What time do you estimate we’ll arrive at King’s Cross?”
“Around eight forty. Eight forty-five latest.”
Ross sighed deeply. “So near and yet so far,” he murmured to himself.
“Forgive me for asking, sir,” said Angus, “but what time would you like this train to arrive in London?”
Ross suppressed a smile. “A few minutes after nine would be just perfect.”
“I’ll see what I can do, sir,” said the chief steward before leaving the carriage.
The train kept a steady speed for the rest of the journey, but then suddenly, without warning, it stuttered to a halt just a few hundred yards outside King’s Cross station.
“This is the steward speaking,” said a voice over the intercom. “We apologize for the late arrival of The Night Scotsman, but this was due to circumstances beyond our control. We hope to disembark all passengers in a few minutes’ time.”
Ross could only wonder how Angus had managed to add another thirty minutes to the journey. He walked out into the corridor to find him trying to calm a group of angry passengers.
“How did you fix it, Angus?” he whispered.
“It seems that another train is waiting on our platform, and as it isn’t due to leave for Durham until five past nine, I’m afraid we won’t be able to disembark passengers much before nine fifteen. I am sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” he said in a louder voice.
“Many thanks, Angus.”
“My pleasure, sir. Och, no,” said Angus, rushing across to the window. “It’s him.”
Ross looked out of the window to see Diego Martinez running flat out along the track toward the station. He checked his watch: 8:53 a.m.
