ut of the tail of his eye, to see that the
distraught girl was led toward a ladies' waiting-room, two doors from
the apartment into which he was thrust. There he was searched by the
lieutenant of reserves, not skilfully, because the man missed nearly the
whole of his money, which he carried in a pocket in the lining of his
waistcoat. All else was taken--tickets, papers, loose cash, even a
cigarette-case and favourite pipe.

The instructions to the sentry were emphatic: "Don't close the door!
Admit no one without sending for me! Shoot or stab the prisoner if he
moves!"

And the fat man bustled away. The station was swarming with military
big-wigs. He must remain in evidence.

During five long minutes Dalroy reviewed the situation. Probably he
would be executed as a spy. At best, he could not avoid internment in a
fortress till the end of the war. He preferred to die in a struggle for
life and liberty. Men had escaped in conditions quite as desperate. Why
not he? The surge of impotent anger subsided in his veins, and he took
thought.

Outside the open door stood the sentry, holding his rifle, with fixed
bayonet, in the attitude of a sportsman who expects a covey of
partridges to rise from the stubble. A window of plain glass gave on to
the platform. Seemingly, it had not been opened since the station was
built. Three windows of frosted glass in the opposite wall were, to all
appearance, practicable. Judging by the sounds, the station square lay
without. Was there a lock and key on the door? Or a bolt? He could not
tell from his present position. The sentry had orders to kill him if he
moved. Perhaps the man would not interpret the command literally. At any
rate, that was a risk he must take. With head sunk, and hands behind his
back, obviously in a state of deep dejection, he began to stroll to and
fro. Well, he had a fighting chance. He was not shot forthwith.

A slight commotion on the platform caught his eye, the sentry's as well.
A tall young officer, wearing a silver helmet, and accompanied by a
glittering staff, clanked past; with him the lieutenant of reserves,
gesticulating. Dalroy recognised one of the Emperor's sons; but the
sentry had probably never seen the princeling before, and was agape. And
there was not only a key but a bolt!

With three noiseless strides, Dalroy was at the door and had slammed it.
The key turned easily, and the bolt shot home. Then he raced to the
middle window, unfastened the has