Of course, in America, where
there is no car which has not what we call an aisle, it would define
nothing. The corridors are all at one side of the car. Doors open thence
to little compartments made to seat four, or perhaps six, persons. The
first-class carriages are very comfortable indeed, being heavily
upholstered in dark, hard-wearing stuffs, with a bulging rest for the
head. The third-class accommodations on this train are almost as
comfortable as the first-class, and attract a kind of people that are
not usually seen traveling third-class in Europe. Many people sacrifice
their habit, in the matter of this train, to the fine conditions of the
lower fare.
One of the feats of the train is an electric button in each compartment.
Commonly an electric button is placed high on the side of the carriage
as an alarm signal, and it is unlawful to push it unless one is in
serious need of assistance from the guard. But these bells also rang in
the dining-car, and were supposed to open negotiations for tea or
whatever. A new function has been projected on an ancient custom. No
genius has yet appeared to separate these two meanings. Each bell rings
an alarm and a bid for tea or whatever. It is perfect in theory then
that, if one rings for tea, the guard comes to interrupt the murder, and
that if one is being murdered, the attendant appears with tea. At any
rate, the guard was forever being called from his reports and his
comfortable seat in the forward end of the luggage-van by thrilling
alarms.
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