corridor.

"You have seen Von Behrling?" he whispered. She nodded.

"He is in that coupe, number 7, alone," she said. "I invited him
to come in with me but he seemed embarrassed. It is his companions
who watch him all the time. He has promised to talk with me later."

In the middle of the night, Louise opened her eyes to find Bellamy
bending over her.

"Louise," he whispered, "it is Von Behrling who will take possession
of the packet. They have been discussing whether it will not be
safer to go on to London instead of doubling back. See Von Behrling
again. Do all you can to persuade him to come to London, - all you
can, Louise, remember."

"So!" she whispered. "I shall put on my dressing-gown and sit in
the corridor. It is hot here."

Bellamy glided out, closing the door softly behind him. The train
was rushing on now through the blackness of an unusually dark night.
For some time he sat in his own compartment, listening. The voices
whose muttered conversation he had overheard were silent now, but
once he fancied that he heard shuffling footsteps and a little cry.
In his heart he knew well that before morning Dorward would have
disappeared. The man within him was hard to subdue. He longed to
make his way to Dorward's side, to interfere in this terribly
unequal struggle, yet he made no movement. Dorward was a man and a
friend, but what was a life more or less? It was to a greater cause