David changed trains in Winterthur, then as they had arranged, Maria's grandparents met his train as it arrived in the Zürich station. After they had greeted and moved across to the platform for the train to Basel, Michael handed David a basket, and Mary said, "I had Murielle pack some food for you. It'll be far better than what you'd get on board." She lifted the cloth cover and pulled out two books. "I thought you might enjoy these. Something to divert your mind as you travel."

He looked at the titles as he took the books: Under Western Eyes by Joseph Conrad, and The Magician by W. Somerset Maugham. "I've read Conrad's The Secret Agent and Maugham's Liza of Lambeth but not these. This is too kind of you."

"Tut-tut. I picked them up the last time we were in England, and we've both finished them. Besides, nothing's too kind for you." She startled at the hiss of steam being released and the squeal of brakes as a train pulled into the station. "Is this yours?"

David nodded and glanced at his watch. "Yes, but we've still nine minutes before it leaves." He caught them up on recent events at Sonnenhang, and they continued chatting as they watched the train stop, then as they walked along to stand by his car. The conductor's whistle and call interrupted them, they hugged farewell, and he boarded.

What a marvellous family she has, he thought as he walked along the corridor to his compartment. So welcoming, so giving, so thoughtful. He nodded to the two other passengers in his compartment, then lifted his satchel and the basket to the overhead rack, checked the seat number and settled as the train began moving. He glanced at his watch and smiled. I've always heard the Swiss trains run as precisely as their watches.

Fifty-five minutes later, he arrived in Basel, disembarked and walked to the platform for his next train. So far three trains and three different companies. No wonder the CIWL was so successful. Assembling through routes on all the separate companies' lines and running overnight trains on them. I wonder if the Orient Express and the Blue Train will return after the war. What a mess Kaiser Wilhelm has made of Europe, even in the neutral countries. Good God, Belgium was neutral.

He looked around at the sound of a train being backed toward him along the tracks next to his platform. He nodded. And here comes a fourth company. An hour and five minutes later, after three brief station stops, the train slowed for Courtemaîche. The conductor came through the train announcing in three languages, "Last stop before France."

The train stopped in front of two groups of men in uniform. Those I recognise as Swiss Customs guards, the others must be French Customs. David watched as a few passengers disembarked and a few boarded. He heard the conductor's whistle and watched the Customs guards board just as the train began moving.

A few minutes later, a Swiss guard looked at David's birth certificate and his ticket to Belfort, then asked, "Où allez-vous?... Where are you going?"

"Je vais étudier à Oxford... I'm going to study at Oxford."

"En Angleterre?... In England?"

"Oui... Yes."

"Merci... Thank you." He handed the papers back to David.

About ten minutes later, a French guard entered the compartment and examined the documents of the other occupants, and questioned them. Then he turned to David and held out his hand and said, "Vos papiers. Combien de temps serez-vous en France?... Your papers. How long will you remain in France?"

"Une nuit à Paris, puis le train jusqu'à la Manche... One night in Paris, then the train to the Channel."

"Avez-vous des pièces dans la voiture de bagages?... Have you pieces in the baggage car?"

David pointed up to his satchel and basket. "Non, seulement ceux-ci. Le reste est en Angleterre... No, only these. The rest is in England."

"Qu'est-ce que vous avez dans votre panier?... What have you in your basket?"

"Choses à manger et deux livres à lire... Things to eat plus two books to read."

"Ouvrez-le... Open it."

David stood and hefted the basket down and placed it on his seat, then lifted the cloth cover. The guard looked in, moved a few things around to see the bottom, smiled and said. "Merci, bienvenue en France... Thank you, welcome to France."

After the guard had left to continue his inspection, David examined the contents of the basket as a smile grew on his face. He looked at his watch. Twelve forty. Time for lunch, anyway.

He opened a bottle of ale and enjoyed sips with a roast chicken sandwich while the train moved very slowly along the tracks. Must be to allow time for the inspections to be completed before the next stop. He stood and lifted down his satchel, opened a pocket and leafed through the bundle of Michelin maps, selected Nº 21, and returned the satchel to the rack.

With the map folded to the appropriate panels, he located the town of Courtemaîche and ran his finger along the track line toward Belfort. First place across the border is Delle. He followed the line of the border eastward to its junction with the German border. Three countries meet less than ten kilometres from here. Probably that's the end of the Front Line, the end of the trenches. Tomorrow morning I'll be near the other end of it, at the Channel.

He looked out the window to see they were entering a community, then glanced back down at the map. Probably Delle.

Two armed guards entered his compartment while two more stood outside its doorway. "Monsieur Großkopf?" One of them asked.

"Oui, c'est moi... Yes, that's me," the man across from David said.

"Vous descendez ici... You're getting off here."

David sat quietly watching as the man retrieved his bag from the rack and was escorted from the train by four guards. Outside on the platform, two more guards followed them with a loaded baggage cart as they headed toward the Customs House.

David was turning to pick up another sandwich when he saw a flash of quick movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to see the Großkopf running, then crumple to the ground clutching his leg as a gunshot pierced the silence.