Chapter 446: Chapter 446
The passengers in the VIP carriage were hardly the sort to suffer inconvenience in silence. Discontent had been simmering, and now it was reaching a boiling point. The conductor finally made an appearance, just moments before a full-blown uproar could erupt, bearing some very unwelcome news:
"Ladies and gentlemen, please, quiet down."
He had to raise his voice to a near shout to be heard over the rising din.
"My sincerest apologies, everyone, truly. I'm afraid we'll be stopped here for the night. There's been an avalanche in a small valley up ahead, forcing an emergency stop. I can assure you, we will have everything sorted out and be on our way by eight o'clock tomorrow morning."
"But the snow has only just started! How could there possibly be an avalanche?"
an elderly woman in a hairnet demanded, her voice a sharp, piercing cry.
"Indeed, madam. While it may have only started snowing for us around dinnertime, that was hundreds of miles back. I assure you, it's been snowing in this region since at least last night!"
He found himself explaining the obvious to the old woman, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket to dab at the sweat on his brow.
"But what about my business? I must be in Chaifu County by Thursday!"
"Gentlemen, the United Railway Company will certainly offer compensation for the delay. You have my word!"
He repeated the promise, mopping his forehead with the now-damp handkerchief.
Regardless, the fact remained: the train was stranded for the night in a desolate, snow-covered wilderness. Fortunately, the steam locomotive was well-stocked with fuel, water, and food, and the heating in the private compartments was more than adequate. This knowledge was enough to finally silence the chorus of complaints.
The commotion had completely chased away any lingering drowsiness for Jenkins. Besides, Chocolate was now wide awake and practically vibrating with excitement, embracing his nocturnal instincts. Deciding against returning to bed, Jenkins joined Mr. Adams Nelly in the dining car, and the two fell into a long, meandering conversation.
They weren't the only ones with that idea. After a dull day of travel, most of the passengers had already had their fill of sleep. Of the eight compartments in the VIP car, only the elderly woman who had questioned the avalanche retired for the night, escorted by her maid. As for the rest, four parties had gathered in the dining car, one gentleman had retreated to the smoking room, and two others had braved the cold to step off the train and admire the winter scenery.
Through the window, the low mountains in the distance were swallowed by the swirling snow, their silhouettes dissolving into the dark horizon. The carriage was bathed in a warm, yellow light that cast a distorted reflection of Jenkins's face on the glass. He turned to gaze outside, watching the thick, feathery flakes drift down. Picking up Chocolate, he set the cat on the table. The feline padded leisurely to the window, his amber eyes fixed on the darkness beyond.
Naturally, the conversation with Mr. Nelly drifted to the subject of the opera troupe back in Nolan. From there, it was a short leap to discussing Mr. Pisco, the playwright who had passed away earlier that month.
Mr. Nelly and the late playwright had been very close friends. Though they rarely met in person, they maintained a frequent correspondence. When Mr. Pisco's funeral was held, the merchant had been unfortunately entangled in a business affair in the Cheslan Kingdom and was unable to make it back to Nolan in time.
Mr. Nelly spoke at length about Mr. Pisco's genius, hailing him as the greatest playwright of the age. Their collaboration, he explained, had begun two decades ago, back when the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe was first established.
"It breaks my heart that Pisco is gone. He was always so robust, so healthy..."
As he spoke, the rims of Mr. Nelly's eyes grew red with emotion.
"All mortals must face their end. Mr. Pisco has simply gone on ahead of us. Perhaps the gods themselves admired his talent and invited him to entertain a higher court."
"You have a charming wit. Are all writers of fairy tales such optimists?" Follow current novels on novel{f}ire.net
Mr. Nelly brushed a knuckle against his cheek. "In that case, let us hope Pisco is happy in the next world."
Jenkins seized the opportunity to inquire about the former director of the troupe, who was, in truth, a Benefactor and a master thief. Mr. Nelly knew a great deal about the man, but only from a mundane perspective. His account of Shelley Howell's background and history matched what the Church had already uncovered—all of which was, of course, a carefully constructed fabrication.
An hour into their conversation, the topic shifted to literature, and Jenkins, now on familiar ground, naturally began to share his thoughts:
"Our current situation is rather like something out of a detective novel, isn't it? A set group of people, trapped in a single location. It's the perfect setup for a protagonist detective, allowing them to confine their list of suspects to a manageable number while preventing the culprit from escaping or outsiders from interfering. It is, in fact, a circumstance real-life detectives rarely have the luxury of encountering."
"You're quite right. It is an excellent setting for a story."
Mr. Nelly considered this for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Is that a common convention in detective stories?"
"I may be a writer, but I can't claim to be an expert on detective fiction."
He said with a touch of modesty, then continued, "But the setup—a crime scene isolated from the outside world by unusual circumstances, where no one can leave—is a classic. Add in a few strange occurrences and a series of mysterious deaths, and you have a formula guaranteed to capture a reader's imagination."
"Listening to you describe it, I find myself wanting to read a few detective stories. It sounds quite fascinating."
Mr. Nelly added admiringly, his fingers curled around the handle of his teacup.
"By confining the killer to a limited pool of suspects, the detective is forced to conduct their investigation and make their deductions within those constraints. It's the most classic of tropes, and the one best suited for maximizing the tension and thrill of the genre."
Jenkins thought back to the brilliant stories he'd once read as he lifted his teacup and took a sip. When Chocolate glanced over, he nudged the cup toward the cat, who turned his head away with an air of pure disdain.
"Oh, Baron Williamette, could it be that your next book will be a detective novel? I would be very eager to read such a story."
The speaker wasn't Mr. Nelly from across the table, but another gentleman from a nearby table who had overheard their conversation. He turned to Jenkins, his voice filled with excitement.
"My apologies, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the scenario you just described is utterly captivating! I fancy myself an enthusiast of detective fiction, yet I've never encountered an author who has grasped that particular point so clearly. Yes, a detective story of that nature would cause an absolute sensation."