Smoking Compartment

It was only 10.45 on a bright sunny morning and my train wasn't due to leave until 11 o-clock, so I made myself comfortable in an empty first-class smoking compartment, lit a cigar, opened my newspaper and began to read. Almost immediately the sliding door from the corridor crashed open and then shut again and there she stood. Stooping to look at herself in the mirror over the seats, she deliberately ruffled her blond hair, and then took two steps towards me.

"You look like a good touch, guv'nor - give me a tenner or I'll tear my dress and scream that you tried to assault me."

I looked at her slowly, through my cigar smoke, shook my head negatively and returned to my newspaper. She was nonplussed at my response but, after some indecision, I was fascinated to see her carry out her threat. Ripping the bodice of her dress with her tearing fingers, she dragged the straps of her undergarments from one shoulder and then, leaving her purse on the seat beside me, flung open the carriage door and jumped down onto the platform.

"Help! - Help me, please! - Someone please help me!"

A young policeman alerted by the commotion approached her, appeared to listen briefly to what she was saying as she gesticulated in my direction, then guided her back to my compartment.

"Now sir," he said, "this young lady claims that you assaulted her, and from her appearance it certainly looks as though something like that happened. Is this your purse, miss?... Well miss, I'll have to ask you to accompany me…"

"What about him then?" she interrupted.

"Oh I don't think we need trouble the gentleman any more miss. Pick up your purse and come with me. You'll be charged with disturbing the peace and making accusations to a police officer knowing them to be false. You see miss," he continued, "this gentleman couldn't have done what you say he did without knocking the ash off his cigar."