The train had stopped beside a platform, and Stewart was astonished at its length. It stretched away and away into the distance, seemingly without end. And it was empty, save for a few guards. The doors behind him were thrown open and the officers sprang out and hurried forward. From the windows in front of him, Stewart could see curious heads projecting; but the forward coaches gave no sign of life. Not a door was opened; not a soldier appeared. "Where are we? What has happened?" asked his companion's voice, and he turned to find her rubbing her eyes sleepily. "We are at the frontier, I suppose," he answered. "No doubt we shall go on as soon as the troops detrain." "I hope they will not be long." "They haven't started yet, but of course--by George!" he added, in another tone, "they aren't getting out! The guards are driving the people out of the cars ahead of us!" The tumult of voices raised in angry protest drew nearer. Stewart could see that the carriages were being cleared, and in no gentle manner. There was no pause for explanation or argument--just a terse order which, if not instantly obeyed, was followed by action. Stewart could not help smiling, for, in that Babel of tongues, he distinguished a lot of unexpurgated American! "There's no use getting into a fight with them," he said, philosophically, as he turned back into the compartment and lifted down his suit-cases. "We might as well get out before we're put out," and he tried to open the door. It was locked. The certainty that they were trapped turned him a little giddy. "Who the devil could have locked this door?" he demanded, shaking the handle savagely. "Seat yourself, Tommy," his companion advised. "Do not excite yourself--and have your passport ready. Perhaps they will not put us off." And then a face, crowned by the ubiquitous spiked helmet, appeared at the window. "You will have to get out," said the man in German, and tried to open the door. Stewart shook his head to show that he didn't understand, and produced his passport. The man waved it impatiently away, and wrenched viciously at the door, purple with rage at finding it locked. Then he shouted savagely at someone farther up the platform. "I have always been told that the Germans were a phlegmatic people," observed Stewart; "but as a matter of fact, they blow up quicker and harder than anybody I ever saw. Look at that fellow, now----" But at that moment a guard came running up, produced a key, and opened the door. "Come, get out!" said the man, with a gesture there was no mistaking, and Stewart, picking up his bags, stepped out upon the platform and helped his companion to alight. "How long will we be detained here?" he asked in English; but the man, with a contemptuous shrug, motioned him to stand back.