irely a corridor train. Therefore, having assured
myself that I was not among spies bent on having my life or the secret I
carried, I forgot about my fellow-travellers, and fell into gloomy
speculations as to my chances with Diana. I had been loving her,
thinking of little else but her and my hopes of her, for many months
now; but never had I realised what a miserable, empty world it would be
for me without Di for my own, as I did now, when I had perhaps lost her.

Not that I would allow myself to think that I could not get her back. I
would not think it. I would force her to believe in me, to trust me,
even to repent her suspicions, though appearances were all against me,
and Heaven knew how much or when I might be permitted to explain. I
would not be a man if I took her at her word, and let her slip from me,
no matter how many times that word were repeated; so I told myself over
and over. Yet a voice inside me seemed to say that nothing could be as
it had been; that I'd sacrificed my happiness to please a stranger, and
to save a woman whom I had never really loved.

Di was so beautiful, so sweet, so used to being admired by men; there
were so many who loved her, so many with a thousand times more to offer
than I had or would ever have: how could I hope that she would go on
caring for me, after what had happened to-day? I wondered. She hadn't
said in actual words last night that she would marry me, whereas this
morning she had almost said she never would. I should have nobody to
blame but myself if I came back to London to-morrow to find her engaged
to Lord Robert West--a man who, as his brother has no children, might
some day make her a Duchess.

"Sorry to have seemed rude just now, sir," said one of the two
railway-key men, suddenly reminding me of his unnecessary existence.
"Hardly knew what I was about when I shoved you away from the door. Me
and my friend was afraid of missing the train, so we pushed--instinct of
self-preservation, I suppose," and he chuckled as if he had got off some
witticism. "Anyhow, I apologise. Nothing intentional, 'pon my word."

"Thanks. No apology is necessary," I replied as indifferently as I felt.

"That's all right, then," finished the Jewish-faced man, who had spoken.
He turned to his companion, and the two resumed their conversation
behind the newspaper: but I now became conscious that they occasionally
glanced over the top at their neighbour or at me, as if their whole
attention