The porter was sorting and packing luggage so fast it looked like he had four arms. He threw a small suitcase under a chair and there was a muffled snap of breaking glass. Alex winced. “Careful with the blue one!” The porter just looked at him. “Uh, si’l vous plait?”

“Oui, monsieur,” said the porter, “perhaps I could find room for it with the roses?”

“Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” David leaned forward over the seats so he could look between the two of them. “Are you going to put it in the trunk room?”

Mel frowned. “It makes good noir sense. What’s safer than the trunk room?”

“Haven’t you guys seen any heist movies, ever? You put something in the trunk room, the only way to get it back out is to win it back. Which one of you thinks he’s good enough to poker our luggage back out of hock?” Alex shook his head at the porter. “No, thanks, we’ll hang on to our stuff, and not try to get too clever with it.”

The porter shrugged. “Eh bien.” Alex wrapped his arms around the suitcase and braced himself against the seat as the train lurched. Between his arms, metal clanked together, musical and distant as the stars.