there whilst your search is made, then those in Madrid and Barcelona to
whom these letters are addressed may never know they have been sent at
all!"

M. de Cassaud nodded and went out. Hillyard waited nervously in the
little whitewashed room. It was impossible that the attendant should
have taken fright and bolted. Even if he bolted, it would be impossible
that he should escape across the frontier. It was impossible that he
should recover the metal case from the water-tank, while the carriage
stood openly at the platform of Cerbere station. He would be certain to
wait until it was shunted into the cleaning shed. But so many
certainties had been disproved, so many possibilities had come to pass
during the last two years, that Hillyard was sceptical to his
finger-tips. M. de Cassaud was a long time away. Yes, certainly M. de
Cassaud was a very long----and the door opened, and M. de Cassaud
appeared.

"He is giving an account of his blankets and his towels. There are two
soldiers at the door. He is safe. Come!" said the Commissaire.

They crossed the platform to the carriage, whilst Hillyard described the
attendant's anxiety that he should bolt his door. "No doubt he gave the
same advice to the manufacturer of Perpignan," Hillyard added.

It was M. de Cassaud who arranged and mounted the steps in the tiny
washing-room.

"Look, monsieur," said Hillyard, and he pointed to the little aperture
in the coloured glass of the window. "One can see from the corridor what
is going on in this room. That is useful. If a traveller complains--bah,
it is the war!" and Hillyard laughed.

M. de Cassaud looked at the window.

"Yes, that is ingenious," he said.

He drained off the water, folded back his sleeve, and plunged his arm
into the tank. Then he uttered a little cry. He drew up into the light
an oblong metal can, like a sandwich-case, with the edges soldered
together to make it water-tight. He slipped it into his pocket and
turned again to the window. He looked at it again curiously.

"Yes, that is ingenious," he said softly, like a man speaking to
himself. Then he led the way back to his office, looking in at the
guard-room on the platform to give an order on the way.

The soldered edges of the case were quickly split asunder and a small
package of letters written on very thin paper revealed.

"You will let me take these on with me," pleaded Martin. "You shall have
them again. But some of them may want a special treatme