Roger drops some money on the dining table and heads out of the dining car. The two police officers question several of the New York Central staff.
The train begins to move again.
In Room 3901, Eve is stretched out on the sleeper couch.
“Think you’d better go out and tell those police to hurry,” says Roger, from inside the closed upper berth.
“Patience is a virtue,” says Eve, readding a book.
“So is breathing!” says Roger.
“Just lie still,” replies Eve.
“Err, have you got any olive oil?” asks Roger.
“Olive oil?” replies Eve.
“I want to be packed in olive oil, if I’m going to be a sardine,” says Roger.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” says Eve. Two police detectives enter. “Who are you?” she asks.
“State police,” announces one man, holding out a badge. “Your name, please?”
“Eve Kendall,” replies Eve. “Is anything wrong?”
“There was a man at your table tonight, in the dining car,” says the detective.
“Yes,” says Eve.
“Friend of yours?” asks the the detective.
“I never saw him before,” says Eve.
“Is this the man?” says the detective, handing Eve a photograph.
“Yes – – I think so,” says Eve. “It’s not a very clear picture.”