the boat. Nevertheless I lingered, folding up a newspaper, and tearing
an article out of a magazine by way of excuse; for it was not my object
to be caught in a crowd and hustled, perhaps, by some clever wretches
who might be lying in wait for what I had in my pocket. It seemed
impossible that anyone could have learned that I was playing messenger
between the British Secretary for Foreign Affairs and Maxine de Renzie:
still, the danger and difficulty of the apparently simple mission had
been so strongly impressed on me that I did not intend to neglect any
precaution.

I lingered therefore; and the Jewish-looking man with his heavy-faced
friend lingered also, for some reason of their own. They had no luggage,
except a small handbag each, but these they opened at the last minute to
stuff in their newspapers, and apparently to review the other contents.
Presently, when the first rush for the boat was over, and the porters
who had come to the door of our compartment had gone away empty-handed,
I would have got out, had I not caught an imploring glance from the
little man who had reserved the carriage. Perhaps I imagined it, but his
pink-rimmed eyes seemed to say, "For heaven's sake, don't leave me alone
with these others."

"Would you be so very kind, sir," he said to me, "to beckon a porter, as
you are near the door? I find after all that I shan't be able to carry
everything myself."

I did as he asked; and there was so much confusion in the carriage when
the porter came, that in self-defence the two friends got out with their
bags. I also descended and would have followed in the wake of the crowd,
if the little man had not called after me. He had lost his ticket, he
said. Would I be so extremely obliging as to throw an eye about the