a certain cool disregard
which can only come from the highest sort of courage. Yet he knew, when
he read over again in the train that brief summons which he was on
his way to obey, that he had passed under the shadow of some new and
indefinable fear. He was perfectly well aware, too, that both on the
steamer and on the French train he was carefully shadowed. This fact,
however, did not surprise him. He even went out of his way to enter into
conversation with one of the two men whose furtive glances into their
compartment and whose constant proximity had first attracted his
attention. The man was civil but vague. Nevertheless, when they took
their places in the dining-car, they found the two men at the next
table. Peter Ruff pointed them out to his companion.

"'Double-Fours'!" he whispered. "Don't you feel like a criminal?"

She laughed, and they took no more notice of the men. But as the
train drew near Paris, he felt some return of the depression which had
troubled him during the earlier part of the day. He felt a sense of
comfort in his companion's presence which was a thing utterly strange to
him. On the other hand, he was conscious of a certain regret that he had
brought her with him into an adventure of which he could not foresee the
end.

The lights of Paris flashed around them--the train was gradually
slackening speed. Peter Ruff, with a sigh, began to collect their
belongings.

"Violet," he said, "I ought not to have brought you." Something in his
voice puzzled her. There had been every few times, during all the years
she had known him, when she had been able to detect anything approaching
sentiment in his tone--and those few times had been when he had spoken
of another woman.

"Why not?" she asked, eagerly.

Peter Ruff looked out into the blackness, through the glittering arc
of lights, and perhaps for once he suffered his fancy to build for
him visions of things that were not of earth. If so, however, it was a
moment which swiftly passed. His reply was in a tone as matter of fact
as his usual speech.

"Because," he said, "I do not exactly see the end of my present
expedition--I do not understand its object."

"You have some apprehension?" she asked.

"None at all," he answered. "Why should I? There is an unwritten
bargain," he added, a little more slowly, "to which I subscribed with
our friends here, and I have certainly kept it. In fact, the balance is
on my side. There is nothing for me to fear.