"Murdered?" asked a shocked Jago.
"Sacre Bleu!" said the porter behind the bar.
"Good Lord!" cried Litefoot.
"Who's the Sultan?" enquired Ace.
"Not again…" whispered the Doctor, so that only Ace could hear him. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd turned up somewhere just after an unexplained death had occurred. And who were the obvious suspects? The mysterious strangers, of course. He had a horrible suspicion that this time wasn't going to be any different.
A handsome, athletic man was sitting at the bar, an untouched glass of whiskey in front of him. He stood up and slapped his hand on the wooden surface of the bar, causing the room to fall silent. "You!" he shouted in a commanding voice, looking at Anton, "Pull yourself together man, and tell us what's happened."
"Yes, Colonel Huntington, I am sorry." Anton's face became professionally impassive again, and he straightened out his jacket. "I was delivering the Sultan's supper to his room, and I could not get an answer. I used my pass-key to enter his room, and I found him laying in bed. He has been stabbed through the heart."
"Professor Litefoot, you're a pathologist, aren't you?" said the Colonel, "Would you please take a look at the Sultan and give us your professional opinion?"
"Of course." Litefoot replied. "Henry, would you please go to our compartment and fetch my Gladstone bag?"
As Litefoot and Jago left the car, the Doctor made to follow them, ushering Ace along in front of him. "Shouldn't we stay and help?" she asked.
"Where do you two you think you're going?" asked the Colonel. "And who exactly are you?"
"We were just going to help Professor Litefoot with his examination. I'm the Doctor, and this is my assistant, Ace." The Doctor gave the Colonel his most charming smile. Ace gave him a sullen pout. She was getting a bit fed up with being dragged and pushed around with no explanation. Not that there was anything new in that, she supposed.
"I don't think you should go anywhere at the moment. Not until you can give a satisfactory account of yourselves."
Ace looked like she was about to say something rude, so the Doctor quickly stepped around her, raising his eyebrows as he turned past her to indicate that he would do the talking.
"Yes, of course." said the Doctor "We'll just retrieve our papers from our baggage and I'm sure we'll have this all cleared up in a moment." He began moving towards the door again.
"Stay where you are." There was something hard and cold about the Colonel's tone that made the Doctor stop and turn to face him. The Colonel had drawn a pistol from his pocket, and was pointing it towards the two of them. "Until you can persuade me otherwise, you two are the prime suspects in the Sultan's murder. I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave this carriage."
"What makes you think we had anything to do with this?" asked the Doctor, his smile gone.
"Yeah, we're just passing through. You've got nothing on us." Ace chipped in, looking angry now.
"Passing through? On a train! I've never seen you before. Where have you been hiding, on the roof? At best you two are stowaways, unless someone here can vouch for you." He looked quizzically at Anton, who responded with a Gallic shrug. "Does anyone know these people?" asked the Colonel.
At that moment, Jago reappeared, looking flustered, and a little green. "Terrible business, I feel quite ill." he said, mopping his perspiring face with a huge silk handkerchief. He caught sight of the gun, and realised the people in the carriage were all staring at him.
"I say, what's going on here then? What's all this with the gun, Colonel?"
"Do you know these two, Jago?"
"Well, yes. That is to say, I think I do."
The Colonel looked unimpressed with Jago's equivocal answer. "Either you do or you don't Jago, make up your mind."
"Well, I don't know them personally, but I know the Doctor by, er, reputation. He is a famous detective, solves cases for Scotland Yard, and all that."
"Detective?" The Colonel looked appraisingly at the Doctor. "How do you come to be here on the train?"
"We were expecting something to happen on this journey." said the Doctor, seizing his chance. "We just didn't know when, or to whom. We have been undercover, trying to gather information. Unfortunately it looks as though we are too late to prevent the crime."
"Undercover, eh?" said Jago, tapping his nose with his finger. "That explains it all then. Look here Colonel, no need for any unpleasantness. Why don't you put the gun away old chap?"
The Colonel didn't look entirely convinced, but he put the pistol back in his jacket pocket. "Well, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for the moment, but I'm still going to have to ask you to stay here, until we find out exactly what's happened."
"Well, let's get all the other passengers in here, and the Doctor can give them all a good grilling, and we'll soon have this sorted out." Jago sounded quite enthusiastic.
"Are you willing to do that, Doctor?" asked the Colonel.
"It looks like I haven't got much choice. But I will need to speak to the passengers separately and in private." He turned towards Anton. "Is there an empty compartment I can use?"
"Certainly, Sir. The train is only partly full, as this is a special service. Come with me, please."
The Doctor and Ace followed Anton out of the door at the other end of the carriage. Close behind them was the Colonel, who still watched them suspiciously. Jago could be heard asking the porter for a large brandy. Anton led the group past two compartment doors, then used his pass-key to open the third. The Doctor and Ace walked inside. The Colonel hovered around the doorway. "I'll be just outside Doctor, don't get any funny ideas about making a break for it."
"Will you please ask Professor Litefoot and Mr. Jago to join us in here? I'd like to question them first." The Doctor spoke to Anton, ignoring the Colonel.
"Very well, Sir." Anton nodded to the Doctor, and hurried off to find Litefoot and Jago. The Doctor pulled the door shut, leaving the Colonel out in the corridor, and sat down on a chair, his hands resting on his umbrella handle in front of him.
"What do we do now, Professor?" asked Ace. "We can't get to the TARDIS with Colonel Mustard out there."
"I think we're going to have to play along with this for a bit. We'll have to be very careful not to let Litefoot or Jago tell us anything about the future, the consequences could be disastrous. I hope the damage hasn't already been done…"
- - -
Litefoot had just finished using a magnifying glass to examine the stab wound to the Sultan's heart. The weapon was still in it: a silver letter opener with the Sultan's crest on the handle. He began checking the rest of the body for signs of injury or struggle. The Sultan had been a large man, the sort of deceptive bulk that looks like fat at first glance, but has solid muscle underneath it. A man like this could put up quite a defence if he had to. Litefoot checked the Sultan's hands, to see if there was any sign of hair or skin under the finger nails. The right hand was partly under the bed cover, along with the lower half of the Sultan's body. When Litefoot pulled the cover back he let out a small gasp of surprise. The little finger of the right hand had been cut away! He checked the floor, under the covers, and even under the fold-down bed, but could find no sign of the missing finger. Puzzled, he went back to his examination of the body. There were no other signs of damage that he could see, although the expression on the Sultan's face indicated that he had not passed away peacefully.
There was a polite tap on the door, and Litefoot stood up to see Anton hovering in the doorway. "Professor? The Doctor has asked to speak with you. I have already asked Mr. Jago to go through to compartment 192."
"Yes, thank you Anton. I'll just wash my hands and I'll be with you." Litefoot scrubbed his hands clean in the small sink in the adjoining bathroom, then left, carrying his bag with him.
"Allow me, Professor." Said Anton, offering to carry the bag.
"I can manage, thank you Anton. Actually, would you mind locking the door with your pass-key? Don't want anyone tampering with the scene of the crime." Litefoot gave a last, thoughtful look at the Sultan's body as Anton slid the door shut and locked it.
- - -
Jago was already there when Litefoot arrived in compartment 192. He sat down next to him, facing the Doctor. Ace stood next to the window, watching the dark shapes of trees flash past in the night. Litefoot opened his mouth to speak, but the Doctor held up a warning hand.
"Professor Litefoot, before you say anything, I must warn you that the events you referred to earlier with the 'young man', are matters of national security. Even I am not privy to the details, and I must ask you to make sure that it stays that way."
"Mum's the word, eh Doctor?" Litefoot nodded in a conspiratorial fashion.
"Most commendable." Said Jago "Can't be too careful with these things. Never know when there might be some queer cove concealed in a cupboard, listening at the keyhole." He looked round the compartment as if checking for spies.
"Now, I have some questions for you two." Said the Doctor, getting down to business. "Am I correct in saying that this is the Simplon Orient Express service?"
"Orient Express? Cool!" Ace interrupted, looking impressed. "Do you think David Suchet will show up in a minute to sort this all out?"
"David Suchet? Is he one of your colleagues?" asked Litefoot.
"Not exactly." said the Doctor "Please, Professor…?"
"Oh, yes. This is the Simplon service. Paris to Istanbul, using the southerly route."
"But the Simplon didn't start running until 1919, did it Professor?"
"If you say so, Doctor." Litefoot was starting to look a little uncomfortable. "Not really a train buff myself."
"What year is it now, Jago?"
"Year?"
"Yes, the year, Henry."
"Well, it's 1926. Is this some sort of coded greeting thing? I am supposed to know the password?"
"Gentlemen, when you met my colleague during that incident with Magnus Greel, the year was 1889. That means that the two of you are now over ninety years old. Can you explain to me how it is that you haven't aged at all in the last thirty-seven years?"
