"Good work!" said Stewart. "I didn't think you had it in you!" and he dropped a generous tip into the waiting hand. "Come, my dear," and he helped his companion aboard. Hans slammed the door shut after them, touched his cap, and hurried away. "Well, that was luck!" Stewart added, and dropped to the seat beside his companion. "But look out for the deluge in another minute!" She was looking out of the window at the excited mob sweeping along the platform. "The crowd is not coming this way," she said, after a moment. "A line of police is holding it back. I think this carriage is intended for the officers." Stewart groaned. "Then we shall have to get out! Take my advice and don't wait to be asked twice!" "Perhaps they will not need this corner. In any case, we will stay until they put us out. If you are wise, you will forget all the German you know and flourish your passport frequently. Germans are always impressed by a red seal!" But, strangely enough, they were not disturbed. A number of officers approached the carriage, and, after a glance at its inmates, passed on to the other compartments. Stewart, putting his head out of the window, saw that the line of police were still keeping back the crowd. "Really," he said, "this seems too good to be true. It looks as if we were going to have this compartment to ourselves." He turned smilingly to glance at her, and the smile remained frozen on his lips. For her face was deathly pale, her eyes were staring, and she was pressing her hands tight against her heart. "You're not ill?" he asked, genuinely startled. "Only very tired," she answered, controlling her voice with evident difficulty. "I think I shall try to rest a little," and she settled herself more comfortably in her corner. "The journey from Spa quite exhausted me." Then with her lips she formed the words "Be careful!" "All right," said Stewart. "Go to sleep if you can." She gave him a warning glance from under half-closed lids, then laid her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes. Stewart, after a last look along the platform, raised the window half-way to protect his companion from the draft, then dropped into the corner opposite her and got out a cigar and lighted it with studied carelessness--though he was disgusted to see that his hand was trembling. He was tingling all over with the sudden sense of danger--tingling as a soldier tingles as he awaits the command to charge. But what danger could there be? And then he thrilled at a sudden thought. Was this compartment intended as a trap? Had they been guided to it and left alone here in the hope that, thrown off their guard, they would in some way incriminate themselves? Was there an ear glued to some hole in the partition--the ear of a spy crouching in the next compartment?