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WHEN railroad passengers from Europe reach London these days, and emerge from the tunnels blinking into the sunlight, they may be forgiven for thinking they have arrived not at a train station, but in the chancel of a vast Victorian cathedral. It is a holy-looking place with a holy-sounding name: St. Pancras. After 50 years of neglect, decay and the threat of demolition only a decade ago, this north London terminal has become once more a consecration of the railway art, a place of soaring ceilings, intricate inlaid stonework, scores of gargoyles, acres of stained glass, fluted iron columns, corbels, crocketed finials -- all the components of ecclesiastic glory on splendid view, and yet for nothing more mundane than the arrival and departure of railway trains. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER]