uneasily fingering his collar. Not one of the trio was, apparently,
paying the slightest attention to me, now that I was seated;
nevertheless I thought of the large, long letter-case which I carried in
an inner breast pocket of my carefully buttoned coat. I would not
attract attention to the contents of that pocket by touching it, to
assure myself that it was safe, but I had done so just before meeting
Di, and I felt certain that nothing could have happened to it since.

I folded my arms across my chest, glanced up to see where the cord of
communication might be found in case of emergency; and then reflected
that these men were not likely to be dangerous, since I had followed
them into the compartment, not they me. This thought was reassuring, as
they were three to one if they combined against me, and the train was,
unfortunately, not entirely a corridor train. Therefore, having assured
myself that I was not among spies bent on having my life or the secret I
carried, I forgot about my fellow-travellers, and fell into gloomy
speculations as to my chances with Diana. I had been loving her,
thinking of little else but her and my hopes of her, for many months
now; but never had I realised what a miserable, empty world it would be
for me without Di for my own, as I did now, when I had perhaps lost her.

Not that I would allow myself to think that I could not get her back. I
would not think it. I would force her to believe in me, to trust me,
even to repent her suspicions, though appearances were all against me,
and Heaven knew how much or when I might be permitted to explain. I
would not be a man if I took her at her word, and let her slip from me,
no matter how many times that word were repeated; so I told myself over
and over. Yet a voice inside me seemed to say that nothing could be as
it had been; that I'd sacrificed my happiness to please a stranger, and
to save a woman whom I had never really loved.