and saw to his dismay a further batch of the British Isles debouching
from another train, it suddenly seemed impossible to him to continue the
journey. Even _his_ flabby soul revolted, and the idea of staying a
night in the little town and going on next day by a slower, emptier
train, flashed into his mind. The guard was already shouting "_en
voiture_" and the corridor of his compartment was already packed when
the thought came to him. And, for once, he acted with decision and
rushed to snatch his bag.

Finding the corridor and steps impassable, he tapped at the window (for
he had a corner seat) and begged the Frenchman who sat opposite to hand
his luggage out to him, explaining in his wretched French that he
intended to break the journey there. And this elderly Frenchman, he
declared, gave him a look, half of warning, half of reproach, that to
his dying day he could never forget; handed the bag through the window
of the moving train; and at the same time poured into his ears a long
sentence, spoken rapidly and low, of which he was able to comprehend
only the last few words: "_à cause du sommeil et à cause des chats_."

In reply to Dr. Silence, whose singular psychic acuteness at once seized
upon this Frenchman as a vital point in the adventure, Vezin admitted
that the man had impressed him favourably from the beginning, though
without being able to explain why. They had sat facing one another
during the four hours of the journey, and though no conversation had
passed between them--Vezin was timid about his stuttering French--he
confessed that his eyes were being continually drawn to his face,
almost, he felt, to rudeness, and that each, by a dozen nameless little
politenesses and attentions, had evinced the desire to be kind. The men
liked each other and their personalities did not clash, or would not
have clashed had they chanced to come to terms of acquaintance. The