A little abruptly she turned away and took her father's arm. The two
men watched them disappear--the little grey-headed man with his
ill-cut clothes, and hard, shrewd face, and the tall, graceful girl,
whose toilette was irreproachable, and whose carriage and bearing
moved even Reist to admiration. They passed down the carpeted way and
through the swing-doors. Then Reist touched his companion on the arm.

"It is half-past eleven," he said. "We are going to catch the twelve
o'clock train from Charing Cross."

CHAPTER VIII

The whistle sounded at last, the train began to glide slowly away from
the almost deserted platform. But at the last moment a man came
running through the booking-office, and made for one of the
compartments. He tugged at the handle, wrenched it open, and was
preparing for a flying leap when an inspector seized him. There was an
altercation, a violent struggle--the man was left upon the platform.
Reist drew a long breath of relief as he settled down in his corner.

"The way these things are managed in England," he said, "it is
excellent."

Ughtred shrugged his shoulders. Reist had been dumb for the last
half-hour, and he was puzzled.

"Will you tell me now," he asked, "the meaning of it all?"

"The meaning of it all is--Hassen!" Reist answered. "How long have you
known him?"

"We fought together in Abyssinia," Ughtred answered, "and I found him
always a capital soldier and a pleasant companion."

"Did you ever ask him where he learnt his soldiering?"

"Once--yes!"

"Did he tell you?"

"I do not think that he did. He told me frankly enough that he had no
past--that it was not to be referred to. There were others like that
in the campaign, men who had secrets to bury, men who sought
forgetfulness, even that forgetfulness which a bullet brings. We were
a strange company enough. But the fighting was good."

"And since then you have met him again in England?"

"I met him at a little fencing-academy six months ago, and since then
we have fenced together continually. But for your recognition of him I
should have written him down as harmless."

A spot of colour burned in Reist's cheek. He ground his heel into the
mat.

"Harmless! He! A Turk! A Russian spy! A double-dealing rogue. Sword in
hand I have chased him through the Kurdistan valley all one night, and
if I had caught him then Russia would have lost a tool and the Sultan
a traitorous soldier. He holds still, although an abse