“Nothing happening,” he said to himself. “Not even a sensational crime. How much more interesting is this young lady.” The finding of one’s self alone in a small closed compartment with a pretty unknown lady, of passing the night together and sleeping in the same compartment, had always appeared to him a rather diverting anomaly. But he saw no use in wasting time in reading magazines or in meditating or exchanging furtive glances. He moved to the middle of the seat. The English girl could not doubt that her traveling companion was about to speak to her, and, wholly unmoved, she neither seemed to avoid it nor to lend herself to it. The burden therefore of establishing relations fell upon Ralph alone. That did not worry him at all. In an infinitely respectful tone he said: “However incorrectly I may be acting I should like to ask your permission to inform you of a fact which may be of importance to you. May I say a few words?” She selected another chocolate and, without turning her head, said quietly: “If it’s only a matter of a few words, sir, you may.” “Well, madam—” “Mademoiselle,” she interjected. “Well, mademoiselle, I happen to know that you’ve been followed all day in an uncommonly equivocal manner by a well-dressed man, who kept out of your sight, and—” She interrupted him to say: “Your behavior is of an incorrectness which astonishes me on the part of a Frenchman. It is no business of yours to keep an eye on the people who follow me.” “It was because the fellow appeared to me a suspicious—” “The gentleman, with whom I am acquainted—he was introduced to me last year—M. Marescal, at least has the delicacy to follow me at a distance and not to invade my compartment.” Ralph, touched on the raw, bowed. “Good, mademoiselle, a direct hit. I can only say no more,” he said mournfully. “You can only say no more till the next station, where I advise you to get out,” she said drily. “A thousand regrets. But business calls me to Monte Carlo,” he protested. “It called you to Monte Carlo only when you knew that I was going there,” she said coldly. “No, mademoiselle,” Ralph contradicted flatly. “Ever since I perceived you—hours ago—in a confectioner’s shop on the Boulevard Haussmann.” The retort came swiftly. “Inaccurate sir. Your admiration for the young person with the green eyes would certainly have drawn you along in her wake, if you had been able to rejoin her after that row in the street. Not being able to do that, you set out on my tracks—at first as far as the Hotel Concordia, like the person you have denounced to me, then to the railway refreshment room.” Ralph was frankly amused, “I am indeed flattered that so few of my actions and movements have escaped you, mademoiselle,” he said smiling. “Nothing escapes me, sir,” she said firmly. “So I see. I expect that for two pins you would tell me my name.” “Ralph de Limézy, explorer, just returned from Tibet and Central Asia.” He could not hide his astonishment.