Foster saw that he must decide quickly. Somehow he did not doubt the
man, who kept his eyes on the door as if he expected somebody to come
in. Moreover, he expected to be met by the police at Ottawa.

"It looks as if I'd run your risk when I put on your coat," he said.

"The porter's sweeping up the car, and if you keep the door open,
you'll be safe while he's about. Besides, if I can't get into the
express car, I'll come back. Give me ten minutes, and then, if I don't
turn up and you feel uneasy, take off the coat and put the newspaper
down."

"Very well," said Foster. "Perhaps you had better take my hat."

The stranger gave him his heavy fur coat. "I'll ask you for it at
Ottawa. You're going to Montreal. What's your name?"

Foster told him and he resumed: "Then, if you don't see me, stop at the
_Windsor_, where I can telegraph, a day or two. You'll be repaid for
any expense or inconvenience. Well, I'm going. Thanks!"

"Good luck!" said Foster, who sat down and opened the _Witness_.

Now he was alone, he began to wonder if he had been imposed upon. The
man, however, did not look like a criminal; though alarmed, he had an
air of quiet authority. In a sense, it seemed absurd that he should
think himself in danger. Violence was not common in Canada, where the
carrying of weapons was prohibited, and Foster had never heard of any
sensational crime on the big expresses. Still he thought the man would
not be afraid without good cause. He did not look like a detective,