With a queer smile Dunton emptied his pockets and poured the contents into Westerham's palms. “All right! All right!” he said. “Don't be in such a hurry. It's most disturbing.” “You fool!” cried Westerham again. “Don't you understand that I have only ten minutes in which to catch the boat-train?” And without another word he bolted out of the room. CHAPTER XV BY ORDER OF THE CZAR Swift as the cab was, Westerham only caught the boat-train by a minute, and at that without a ticket. He had then two hours for calm reflection, and to some extent self-reproach. Never in his life before had he been so unnerved, and the expressions of irritation which he had made at the Buckingham Palace Hotel before Dunton did not seem to him good. He saw that his was not a fit state of mind to be in if he intended to steer safely through the troubled waters ahead of him. Some things were growing clearer to his mind. More and more he was coming to realise the clever, if circuitous, means by which Melun was seeking to break down Lady Kathleen's resistance and render his own task harder. But this new move disturbed him more than any which had yet been made. He could find no reason for the scene of the conflict being suddenly transferred from England to France, unless, indeed, Melun had at last come to the conclusion that Westerham was too dangerous a man to play with. Soon he saw, however, that speculation was utterly useless. All his efforts must be concentrated upon his finding Lady Kathleen, and if necessary compelling her by sheer force to capitulate and take him into her confidence. He set his heart upon this so strongly that he persuaded himself that there were no difficulties in his way. It would be strange indeed if, when the moment came, he would not be able to induce Lady Kathleen to reveal those things which up to then she had so obstinately and persistently hid. The night was calm, and the passage to Dieppe a smooth one, but on the quay Westerham received a sharp demonstration that the difficulties which he had mentally brushed aside nevertheless remained to be grappled with in actual fact. To begin with, he had no luggage. He did not even possess an overcoat, and as it had come on to rain, and for the sake of greater freedom of thought he had remained on deck, his appearance was already travel-worn and bedraggled. Small wonder, therefore, that as he presented the ticket with which he had been provided at Newhaven the officials of the _douane_ regarded him with keen suspicion. “Monsieur has nothing to declare?” they asked. He could only shrug his shoulders and say: “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” To avoid further questionings he added: “I have not even an overcoat.” They looked him up and down, and his appearance inspired a certain amount of respect. None the less, they took counsel together, and with an ever-watchful eye Westerham saw them approach a portly person of an intensely British aspect.