Flashman And The Tiger

The station seemed uncommon busy for a Sunday night. There was a great crowd milling under the electric lamps, but Blowitz bustled through like a tug before a liner, flourishing a token and announcing himself with his usual pomposity to a blue-coated minion who conducted us through a barrier to a less-crowded platform where knots of passengers and uniformed railway officials were waiting beside a train. All eyes were turned to it, and I have to say it looked uncommon smart and polished, gleaming blue and gold under the lights, but otherwise ordinary enough, the steam hissing up from beneath the engine with that pungent railway smell, the porters busy at the five long coaches, on one of which the curtains were drawn back to reveal the glowing pink interior of a dining salon—and yet there was an unwonted hush about the working porters, an excitement among the throng watching from the barrier, and an air of expectancy in the little groups on the platform. Blowitz stopped, clutching at my arm and staring at the train like a child in a toy shop.

"Ah, gaze upon it!" cries he. "Is it not the train of trains—the ultimate, l’apogee, le dernier cri of travel! Oh, my boy, who was the genius who said `Let the country build the railway, and the railway will build the country'? And not only a country—now a continent, a world!" He flourished a hand. "Behold that which will be called the monarch of the rails, as it prepares for its first journey!" He turned to beam up at me, his eyes glistening moistly. "Yes, this is my surprise, my treat, my petit cadeau to you, dearest of friends—to be one of the select band who will be the pioneers on this historic voyage! You and I, ’Arree, and a mere handful of others—we alone will share this experience, the envy of generations of travellers yet to come, the first to ride upon the magic carpet of the steel highway—l’Express Orient!"

The name meant nothing then, since this was only the inception of what I suppose is now the most famous train on earth—and to be honest, it still don’t mean that much. I’m a steamship man, myself; they don’t rattle or jolt, I don’t mind the occasional heave, and the feeling of being snug and safe appeals to my poltroon nature—once aboard, the world can’t get at you, and if danger threatens you can usually take to the boats or swim for it. Trains I regard as a necessary nuisance, but with Blowitz bouncing and pawing my sleeve I was bound to be civil.

"Well, much obliged, Blow," says I. "Handsome of you. It looks a capital train, as trains go—but how far is it going, eh?" It didn’t look district line, exactly, but my question was ignored.

"Capital! As trains go!" squawks he, flinging up his hands. "Milles tornades! This you say of the supreme train de luxe! A veritable palace upon wheels, the reassertion of privilege in travel! Why, thanks to my good friend Nagelmacker, le haute monde may be carried to the ends of the continent in the luxury of the finest hotel, sleeping and waking in apartments of elegance and comfort, dining on the superb cuisine of a Burgundian chef, enjoying perfect service, splendid wines, everything of the best! And all this," he concluded triumphantly, "for two thousand miles, from Paris to Constantinople, in a mere ninety hours, less than—"

"What’s that? You ain’t getting me to Constantinople!"

He crowed with laughter, taking my arm to urge me forward. "No, no, that is for me, not for you, cher ’Arree! I travel on, about my business, which will be to seek interviews with ministers and crowned heads en route, with a grand finale in Constantinople, where I hope to obtain audience of the Sultan himself. Oh, yes, Blowitz works, while you—" he glanced roguishly from me to the train "—journey only as far as Vienna, in the company of royalty more agreeable by far. Aha, that marches, eh? A day and a night in her charming company, and then—the city of the waltz, the Tokay, of music and romance, where you may dally together by the banks of the enchanted Danube—"

I managed to stem his Cook’s advertising at last. "You mean she’s on the train?"

He raised a finger, glancing round and dropping his voice. "Officially, no—the sleeping coach reserved for ladies will be unoccupied until Vienna. However," he nodded towards one of the darkened coaches, "for such a distinguished passenger as Her Highness, accommodation has been found. And now, my immovable Englishman," cries he grinning all over his fat cheeks, "you will tell me at last that you are glad you came to Paris, and that Blowitz’s little gift pleases you!"