The girl shook her head unsmiling. "Not at all. I--I----" she glanced swiftly from us to the window and the obvious [Illustration: (mirror-image SMOKING)] on the glass panel. "I beg your pardon," she said. "I didn't notice. I was late and the porter hustled me in----" She turned her eyes on me; she had well marked, delicate brows, and a firm chin. Altogether I thought her a remarkable-looking young woman (I was sitting with my back to the engine, facing her diagonally), and had it not been for a certain touch of diffidence in her rather shy manner, I should have written her down as decidedly strong-minded. For a moment she looked as if she were contemplating flight to the corridors in search of another carriage. "Train's very full," said Milsom, "but if you like I'll go and see if there's room in a non-smoker." She shook her head. "I don't mind smoking--unless you mind my staying where I am?" We both mumbled polite reassurances, and she returned to her book, obviously dismissing us completely from her consciousness. For all our protestations, neither of us was much at ease after that; we kept up a desultory conversation for a bit, but we were unaccustomed to having women near us, and a man can't talk squarely to another man with a woman in hearing. So after a bit we gave it up and retired behind our papers. I even dozed for a bit, and must have slept for nearly an hour when I was awakened by my pipe dropping out of the corner of my mouth. My eyes, as they opened, rested first on the girl. She appeared to be sleeping; at all events she was leaning back with her eyes closed and her book lying unheeded on her lap. I glanced at Milsom in front of me, and found him leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring across the carriage at the window beside the only vacant corner--that is to say, the one opposite the girl. There was a faintly puzzled expression on his face, and he kept glancing from the window to the girl. Then he looked at me with a queer enigmatic smile. We neither of us spoke, I suppose with the idea of not waking our fellow-passenger, but Milsom presently drew a pencil-case from the pocket of his waistcoat and scribbled something on the margin of his newspaper. This he handed to me: "Come and sit beside me; don't make a noise." I obeyed rather curiously, and he continued to study the window. We had just emerged from a short tunnel when he wrote again on his paper: "Watch that window and tell me if you can see anyone's reflection in it." He indicated with a nod the window alongside the vacant seat opposite the girl. I stared and could see nothing but the landscape and the telegraph poles flicking by. Then we plunged into a cutting, and for a moment the sheet of glass became a mirror. I felt Milsom grip my arm hard above the elbow. "Well?" he breathed. I shook my head, and for the third time he drew the paper on to his knee and scribbled hard.