think best.
Anyhow, get out of this, both of you. This is my private berth, and
you are trespassing."

CHAPTER VII.

Whatever may have been the Colonel's intentions when he caught me in
his compartment, something, and I think my last words, led him to
modify them. He felt, probably, that if he attacked me I might
retaliate unpleasantly. I ought to be able to hold my own with him,
although in truth I was not over happy at the course events had taken,
and I could not compliment myself on my good management.

I had not been overprudent; I had pressed my attentions on him rather
abruptly, although I had the excuse that I usually found them well
received, thanks to my affable address; again I had behaved most
incautiously in penetrating his identity.

And, worse than all, I had still no certainty. I could only surmise
that the lady was the one I was in search of, for I had not as yet
clapt eyes on her, and I had been to some extent driven to show my
hand before I had made my ground good. So the first thing I did on
regaining my own compartment was to ring for Jules, the conductor, and
put before him the photograph with which I was provided, and ask him
if he recognized it.

"But perfectly. It is the lady yonder," he said promptly. "Is it your
own, or did you find it or annex it from next door? Ah, your own; and
what have you to do with her?"

"I may tell you some day, Jules. For the present you must know that I
am after her; I have to watch her, stick to her like her shadow until
it is time to act."

"An adventuress, eh?"

"She is in possession of what does not belong to her; something she
abstracted from--from--Never mind where, and it must be recovered from
her here, or after she leaves the car."

"Afterwards, please. We can't have any scandal on board here."

"Five hundred francs wouldn't tempt you to let me have a free hand for
just half an hour? I could do it, say somewhere short of Basle, and on
reaching there make off. No one should be any the wiser, and they, the
women, wouldn't dare to make a fuss."

"It's I who do not dare--not for twice five hundred francs. My place
is worth more than that; and if it is a dog's life, it is better than
lying on the straw. Besides, there's her friend the Colonel, he'll be
on the alert, you may depend."

"So must I be, and I must find some way to circumvent him. I'll be
even with him. He sha'n't beat me, the overbearing, hectoring brute.
It's between him and