With her left fingers still digging into the brass handle of the box clutched tightly to her bosom she shut the carriage door, her eyes darting quickly in all directions. The latch was nervously tweaked to the right with a pull left and right on the sliding door to guarantee safety. Satisfied that she was alone, she let out a huge sigh of relief. Genevieve placed the box on the seat in front of her. Relaxing a little know she noticed the immense pain in her right hand. It had had been tightly clutched to the raspy handle for hours now, leaving bruised rough red indents on her fingers and palms. Taking no notice of the her surroundings she carefully studied the suitcase. The latches must have been at least 50 years old. The old brown leather was corroding at the edges creating a patchy reddish tinge.....
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