By Royal Command Read Online Free

complicated than snap.’
    It was perhaps not wise of James to taunt the boys like this, because the next thing he knew Gerhardt had grabbed his arms from behind.
    ‘Search his pockets,’ he barked at his companions.
    The others looked unsure and hesitated, which gave James just enough time to stamp down heavily on Gerhardt’s instep. The boy yelled and let James go. James drove his elbow into Gerhardt’s gut and wriggled free just as Artur threw a clumsy punch. He neatly stepped round it, turned, grabbed the boy’s arm and jerked it up into a half-nelson behind his back.
    ‘Agh,’ Artur grunted. ‘Let me go – you are hurting.’
    ‘That’s the idea,’ said James. ‘I’ll let you go when you lot promise to stop this stupid fighting.’
    ‘All right, all right,’ said the boy, and James pushed him away. Gerhardt had other ideas, though, and he lunged at James.
    James was ready for him this time. He easily ducked Gerhardt’s blundering attempt at a right hook and brought the heel of his own right hand up hard under the boy’s chin. Gerhardt’s head jerked back, his teeth clacked together and he must have bitten his tongue, because blood started to pour from his mouth. He clamped both hands over his lips and moaned.
    Two more of the youths squared up to James, but he gave them such a brutal look of cold fury that they backed off and put up their open palms in surrender.
    James took a handful of change from his pocket and flung it to the floor of the train in disgust. ‘There you are,’ he said, ‘you can have that. Sort it out among yourselves. But if you are not prepared to lose with good grace, don’t play cards for money.’
    James turned and walked away down the corridor while the youths scrabbled on the floor and bickered over the coins.
    James didn’t feel very pleased with himself. He could have handled the situation better and avoided a fight, but he had to admit that he was tired and grumpy. He’d been travelling for two days now – by train to Dover, by ferry to Boulogne, then through the night across northern France and Switzerland into Austria. He had slept very little in that time and had had nothing more to eat than some sandwiches that his Aunt Charmian had packed for him.
    Also, he had been dogged by the nagging feeling that someone was watching him, following him. He couldn’t put his finger on it but a sort of sixth sense had set his nerves jangling. It had started at Dover when he had spotted a man in a coat and trilby hat who seemed to be staring down at him from a walkway. The man had been standing in front of a bright window that had turned him into a featureless, black silhouette, so James had no idea if he really had been looking at him, or even what he looked like.
    After that he had noticed other things, small things: a glimpse of a man’s watchful face out of the corner of his eye; a face that disappeared as he turned to look; a figure in a crowd that stepped into the shadows when he glanced towards it; footsteps behind him that seemed to have no owner.
    He told himself that he was imagining it. After all that had happened to him in the last few months he was bound to have developed a persecution complex. He was wound as tight as a watch spring. He needed to calm down and relax. He was greatly looking forward to arriving in Kitzbühel and meeting up with the school party from Eton that was spending their Easter break in the mountains.
    To try and clear his head, he fetched his coat and walked all the way to the back of the train where there was a little open-air observation deck. He tugged the door open and stepped out into the cool breeze and stood leaning on the rail, looking at the passing scenery.
    They were clattering along a narrow track that ran through a valley just beginning to emerge from its winter cloak of snow. Above, the great purple-blue Alps poked out above low clouds, their flanks gleaming with swathes of white. They passed a cluster of wide-roofed alpine