as a bear! Don't switch off
the light, it won't bother me." He nodded, smiled, drew his rug closer
about his knees, and settled himself to sleep with the ease of the
accustomed traveller.

For close upon an hour complete silence reigned in the heated carriage.
Blake slept silently and peacefully; Billy went methodically through his
papers, dropping them one by one at his feet as he finished with them;
McCutcheon smoked, gazing into space with the blank expression of the
strenuous man who has learned to utilize his momentary respites; while,
stretched along the cushions of the carriage, his face hidden, his eyes
wide open and attentive, lay the young Russian, his fingers tentatively
caressing the treasure in the pocket of his coat.

But at last the spell was broken. The diplomatic Englishman dropped his
last paper, and McCutcheon stretched himself and looked once more at his
watch.

"Paris in an hour, Billy! Didn't those loafers in the dining-car promise
us coffee somewhat about this time?"

Billy looked up, unruffled of mind and body as in the first moment of
the journey. "I believe they did," he said. "Tell you what! You jog
their memories, while I go and wash. What about calling Ned?"

At sound of his own name, Blake's eyes opened. His waking was
characteristic of him. It was no slow recovery of the senses; he was
asleep and then awake--fully, easily awake, with a complete
consciousness of his position--a complete, assured grasp of time and
place.

"We're getting on, eh?" he said. "I suppose you're going to tub before
those fat Belgians in the sleeping-car, Billy? If you are, keep a second
place for me, like a good boy. There's nothing more fiendishly
triumphant than taking a bath in the basin while the rest of the train
is rattling the door-handle. Don't forget! Second place!" Then he turned
to the American. "What about the coffee, Mac? I expect those poor devils
of waiters have slept your order off."

"I was just about to negotiate that coffee transaction." McCutcheon
stood up. "You come too, my son! A little exercise will give you an
appetite." He paused to stretch his long, lean body, and incidentally
his glance fell upon their travelling companion, and he indicated the
recumbent figure with a jerk of the head.

"Say, Ned, ought we to wake our unsociable friend?" Blake cast one quick
glance at the huddled form, then he answered, tersely: "Let him alone!
He's not asleep--and, anyway, he understands Englis