'Not you. You'd rise to the occasion like a bird. And as for the
self-control you were talking of the other day'--Gilbert swung him
round--'look!'

A young man in an ulster over a silk-faced frock-coat stood by the
carriage window, weeping shamelessly.

'Oh, but that's only drink,' Conroy said. 'I haven't had one of my--my
things since lunch.'

'Excellent!' said Gilbert. 'I knew I could depend on you. Come along.
Wait for a minute, Chartres.'

A tall woman, veiled, sat by the far window. She bowed her head as the
doctor murmured Conroy knew not what. Then he disappeared and the
inspector came for tickets.

'My maid--next compartment,' she said slowly.

Conroy showed his ticket, but in returning it to the sleeve-pocket of
his ulster the little silver Najdolene case slipped from his glove and
fell to the floor. He snatched it up as the moving train flung him
into his seat.

'How nice!' said the woman. She leisurely lifted her veil, unbottoned
the first button of her left glove, and pressed out from its palm a
Najdolene-case.

'Don't!' said Conroy, not realising he had spoken.