It's as if you've suddenly walked into a luxury hotel. Gold leaf adorns the carvings on the mahogany paneling, reflecting flickering gaslight. The chairs and divans are all velvet upholstery. Oil paintings hang on the wall (aggressively secured by screws): landscapes of dramatic canyons and grazing buffalo herds. The only indication that you're in a train car is the muted sound of the station whistle coming through the heavy damask curtains.

It's the sort of gaudy display one might expect from a man like Rupert Redwater, but it takes your breath away all the same. You walk briskly toward a crystal decanter of amber spirits, but decide you aren't bold enough to help yourself to the tycoon's bourbon, and take a seat by the curtained windows instead. The patter of rain and the warm glow of the gaslights sets you to musing again as you wait.

This meeting has to go well because...

>You're in serious debt to some serious people, and Mr. Redwater is one of the few that can make such problems go away.
>Your wife's illness has taken a turn for the worse, and Mr. Redwater employs some of the best doctors in the country
>This is the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to finally restore your family fortune
>Write-in