“Do you?” he said, with a quick, surprised appreciation in his voice. “I was just wishing something like that myself. Do you see that beautiful straight road down there? I was longing to slide down this bank and walk over to that little village for breakfast. Then we could get an auto, perhaps, or a carriage, to take us on to another train. If you hadn’t been so ill last night, I might have proposed it.” “Could we?” she asked, earnestly. “I should like it so much;” and there was eagerness in her voice. “What a lovely morning!” Her eyes were wistful, like the eyes of those who weep and wonder why they may not laugh, since sunshine is still yellow. “Of course we could,” he said, “if you were only able.” “Oh, I’m able enough. I should much rather do that than to go back into that stuffy car. But wouldn’t they think it awfully queer of us to run away from the train this way?” “They needn’t know anything about it,” he declared, like a boy about to play truant. “I’ll slip back in the car and get our suit-cases. Is there anything of yours I might be in danger of leaving behind?” “No, I put everything in my suit-case before I came out,” she said, listlessly, as though she had already lost her desire to go. “I’m afraid you are not able,” he said, pausing solicitously as he scaled the steps. She was surprised at his interest in her welfare. “Why, of course I am,” she said, insistently. “I have often taken longer walks than that looks to be, and I shall feel much better for being out. I really feel as if I couldn’t stand it any longer in there.” “Good! Then, we’ll try it!” He hurried in for the baggage and left her standing on the cinder roadbed beside the train looking off at the opening morning. CHAPTER IX It was just at that instant that the thick-set man in his berth not ten feet away became broadly conscious of the unwonted stillness of the train and the cessation of motion that had lulled him to such sound repose. So does a tiny, sharp sound strike upon our senses and bring them into life again from sleep, making us aware of a state of things that has been going on for some time perhaps without our realization. The sound that roused him may have been the click of the stateroom latch as Gordon opened the door. The shades were down in the man’s berth and the curtains drawn close. The daylight had not as yet penetrated through their thickness. But once awake his senses were immediately on the alert. He yawned, stretched and suddenly arrested another yawn to analyze the utter stillness all about him. A sonorous snore suddenly emphasized the quiet of the car, and made him aware of all the occupants of all those curtained apartments. His mind went over a quick résumé of the night before, and detailed him at once to duty.