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reserved for the Governor and his wife – in this case the Governor and his niece – and beyond that again their private dining compartment. The Governor has very kindly offered to let us travel and eat with him.'
    Pearce raised his glass again. 'Well, bully for you. Governor.' He paused and looked quizzically at Fairchild. 'What's the matter. Governor? You look a mite worried to me.'
    The Governor did, indeed, look a trifle worried. He seemed paler than usual, his face drawn, his lips compressed. He forced a smile, emptied and refilled his glass and attempted to speak lightly.
    'Matters of state, my dear Marshal, matters of state. Life in the legislature is not all receptions and balls, you know.'
    'I'm sure it's not. Governor.' Pearce's pacific tone turned to one of curiosity. 'Why are you along on this trip, sir? I mean, as a civilian–'
    O'Brien interrupted. 'A governor has full military powers in his own state, Nathan. Surely you know that.'
    Fairchild said pontifically: 'There are certain matters calling for my personal presence and attention in Fort Humboldt.' He glanced at Claremont, who gave a tiny shake of his head. 'More I can't say – not, that is, at the moment.'
    Pearce nodded, as if satisfied, and did not pursue the topic. A silence, not wholly comfortable, fell over the compartment, and was interrupted only twice by the entrance of Henry, the tall, immensely thin and almost cadaverous steward, once to top up glasses, once to replenish the cordwood-burning stove. Deakin's head had fallen forward on to his chest and his eyes were closed: he was either shutting out the world around him or had genuinely fallen asleep, which would have been no mean feat for a man trussed as uncomfortably as he was and having to brace himself, however unconsciously, against the increasingly erratic movements of the coach. The train, having reached a comparatively level stretch, had picked up speed and was beginning to sway from side to side. Even in those plushly upholstered seats, the motion was becoming distinctly uncomfortable.
    Marica said uneasily to the Governor: 'Must we go so fast. Uncle Charles? Why all the fearful hurry?'
    Claremont answered for the Governor. 'Because the engineer. Miss Fairchild, is under orders to make the best speed possible. And because this is an army relief train, and we're late. The United States Cavalry does not like to be late – and we're already two days behind schedule.' He lifted his eyes as Henry entered a third time and loomed there, the very image of the melancholy dyspeptic to whom, apparently, life was an intolerable burden.
    'Governor, Colonel. Dinner is served.'
    The dining-room was small, holding only two four-seater tables, but was furnished to the same luxurious standards as the day saloon. The Governor, his niece, Claremont and O'Brien were seated at one table, Pearce, Dr Molyneux and the Rev. Peabody at the other. There were some bottles of both red and white wines on the table and, by some legerdemain known only to Henry, the white wine was actually chilled. Henry himself moved around with a quiet if lugubrious efficiency.
    Peabody lifted an austere hand against Henry's offer of wine, turned his glass, in what was clearly intended to be a significant gesture, upside down on the tablecloth, then resumed gazing at Pearce with an expression of mingled awe and horrified fascination.
    Peabody said: 'By coincidence. Marshal, both the doctor and I come from Ohio, but even in those distant parts everyone has heard of you. My word, it is an odd sensation. Peculiar, most peculiar. I mean, to be sitting here, in person, so to speak, with the most famous – ah – lawman in the West.'
    Pearce smiled. 'Notorious, you mean. Reverend.'
    'No, no, no! Famous, I assure you.' Peabody's assurances were made in a very hasty fashion. 'A man of peace, of God, if you want, but I do clearly appreciate that it was in the line of duty that you had to kill all those scores of