"Stop, thief!" the Maggie Thatcher clone was shrieking. "The bugger stole my bag! Pull the emergency lever!" No one responded, but the murmurings grew louder. Newspapers rustled. The train sped on. I had regained my balance, but Milos was heavy. "Are you all right? What's the matter?" He said nothing at all, and he was slipping slowly to the floor. "Somebody help me! He's fainted." I went down on one knee, and then fell to my side, cracking my elbow, as the train rounded a curve. I fell with Milos on top of me. "Christ, missus, he's bleeding!" A male hand assisted me to sitting position. Various murmurs. "Pull the lever." "Better not, love. It'll just stop between stations. Wait for South Ken." "Give 'em air, please." "Back off." I heard the chatter, but I was staring at Milos's gray face. A thin trickle of blood seeped from one corner of his mouth. His eyes were half closed, the whites showing.
