Father Vasiliy (Russian for "Basil") reached the door to the Luggage Car, and reached into his valise for the small censor and flask of holy water he always carried with him. The violin case was gone; and in its place was a viola case!

"Gorky Novgorod Zhdruvnik!" (*egad!) he swore. Immediately, a porter came out through the door, looking pale. "Porter," said the priest, "Take this to the Philharmonic, pozhal'sta -um- s'il vous plait" (*"if you've nothing better to do"). The porter absently grabbed the viola case and walked on up the train.

He lit the censor, applied the incense, and opened the door to the luggage compartment. "Svyatiy Bozhe! Sviatiy Kryepkiy!" (*"Holy God! Holy Mighty One!") he intoned, incense billowing like the smoke from the train's engine, "Svyatiy Bezsmertniy!" (*"Holy Immortal One!")

The car was empty. There was a large, still-drying blood stain on the floor. The door behind him closed, and he heard the bolt slide home.

"Svyatiy Kal!" (*"Sacre Merde!") he murmured. With his big fists he pounded on the door. There was no answer. The train rocked on down the tracks toward Budapest. After some time, the incense went out. Finally, the big man sat down on the car floor, his back against the forward bulkhead.

"Gospodi Pomiluy!" (*"Where's God when you need Him?") said Father Popovich.