The Great Train Robbery

"Now, then, dear girl," Fowler said, "our friend Edward here shall surely have surmised the purpose of my journey, but I fancy you are still in the dark."
The girl was, in fact, staring at Mr. Fowler with her mouth slightly open.
"The truth is that this is no ordinary train, and I am no ordinary passenger. On the contrary, I am the general manager of the banking firm of Huddleston amp; Bradford, Westminster, and today, aboard this very train-- not two hundred paces from us as we sit here-- my firm has stored a quantity of gold bullion for shipment overseas to our brave troops. Can you imagine how much? No? Well, then-- it is a quantity in excess of twelve thousand pounds, my dear child."
"Cor!" the girl exclaimed. "And you're in charge of all that?"
"I am indeed." Henry Fowler was looking plainly self-satisfied, and with reason. He had obviously overwhelmed the simple girl with his words, and she now regarded him with dizzy admiration. And perhaps more? She appeared to have entirely forgotten Pierce.
That is, until Pierce's cigar smoke billowed in gray clouds within the compartment. Now the girl coughed in a delicate, suggestive fashion, as she had no doubt observed her mistress to do. Pierce, staring out the window, did not seem to notice.
The girl coughed again, more insistently. When Pierce still made no response, Fowler took it upon himself to speak. "Are you feeling well?" he inquired.
"I was, but I'm faint…" The girl made a vague gesture toward the smoke.
"Edward," Fowler said. "I believe your tobacco causes Miss Lawson some distress, Edward."
Pierce looked at him and said, "What?"
"I say, would you mind--" Fowler began.
The girl bent forward and said, "I feel quite faint, I fear, please," and she extended a hand toward the door, as if to open it.
"Just look, now," Fowler said to Pierce. Fowler opened the door and helped the girl-- who leaned rather heavily upon his arm-- into the fresh air.
"I had no idea," Pierce protested. "Believe me, had I but known--"
"You might have inquired before lighting your diabolical contraption," Fowler said, with the girl leaning against him, weak-kneed, so that much of her bosom pressed against his chest.
"I'm most dreadfully sorry," Pierce said. He started to get out himself, to lend assistance.
The last thing Fowler wanted was assistance. "You shouldn't smoke anyway, if your doctor has warned you that trains are hazardous to your health," he snapped. "Come, my dear," he said to the girl, "my compartment is just this way, and we can continue our conversation with no danger of noxious fumes." The girl went willingly.
"Dreadfully sorry," Pierce said again, but neither of them looked back.
A moment later, the whistle blew and the engine began to chug. Pierce stepped into his compartment, shut the door, and watched London Bridge Station slide away past his window as the morning train to Folkestone began to gather speed.