‘Ah, diamonds!’ the guard said. ‘Was the young woman’s name Elena?’ he asked. ‘Yes,
it was!’ Mr Harris said. ‘How do you know that? Do you… Do you know her?’ ‘Yes -
and no,’ the guard said slowly. He thought for a minute, then looked at Mr
Harris. ‘Elena di Saronelli,’ he said. ‘She had dark eyes and black hair. Very
beautiful. She was half Italian, half Finnish. Her brother was a half-brother.
They had the same father, but his mother was Russian, I think.’ ‘Was? Had?’ Mr
Harris stared at the guard. ‘But she… Elena… she’s alive! And where is she?’ ‘Oh
no,’ said the guard. ‘Elena di Saronelli died about eighty years ago. After she
killed her brother with a knife, she jumped off the train and died at once. It
was near here, I think.’ He looked out of the window, into the night. Mr
Harris’s face was very white again. ‘Eighty years ago!’ He whispered. ‘What are
you saying? Were she and her brother… But I saw them!’ ‘Yes, that’s right,’ the
guard said. ‘You saw them but they’re not alive. They’re ghosts. They often come
on the night train at this time in September.
