She had been amused and a trifle hurt by the other’s cool dismissal of her when she had served her turn. That she had come to some decision, Katherine was quite certain, but she wondered now what that decision had been. Whatever it was, death had stepped in and made all decisions meaningless. Strange that it should have been so, and that a brutal crime should have been the ending of that fateful journey. But suddenly Katherine remembered a small fact that she ought, perhaps, to have told the police⁠—a fact that had for the moment escaped her memory. Was it of any real importance? She had certainly thought that she had seen a man going into that particular compartment, but she realised that she might easily have been mistaken. It might have been the compartment next door, and certainly the man in question could be no train robber. She recalled him very clearly as she had seen him on those two previous occasions⁠—once at the Savoy and once at Cook’s office. No, doubtless she had been mistaken. He had not gone into the dead woman’s compartment, and it was perhaps as well that she had said nothing to the police. She might have done incalculable harm by doing so.