arcels.
There could not be a shadow of doubt.

It was the lady, the so-called Mrs. Blair, in full flight, with all
her belongings, and under the care and guidance not only of the
Colonel, that of course, but also of the perfidious Jules l'Echelle.
He had sold me! All doubt of his treachery disappeared when on rushing
to the door I found I had been locked into my compartment.

I rang the electric bell frantically, again and again. I got no
answer; I threw up the window and thrust my head out, shouting for
help, but got none, only one or two sluggish porters came up and asked
what was amiss, answering stolidly, when they heard, that it was none
of their business. "They had no key, it must be a mistake. The
conductor would explain, I must wait till he came."

Presently Jules arrived, walking very leisurely from the direction of
the restaurant, and he stood right under my window with a grin on his
face and mockery in his voice.

"What's wrong? Locked in? Can't be possible? Who could have done it? I
will inquire," he said slowly and imperturbably.

"No, no; let me out first. You can do it if you choose. I believe it
was your trickery from the first. I must get out, I tell you, or they
will escape me," I cried.

"Not unlikely. I may say it is pretty certain they will. That was the
Colonel's idea; you'd better talk to him about it next time you see
him."

"And that will be never, I expect. He's not going to show up here
again."

"There you're wrong; he will be back before the train starts, you may
rely on that, and you'll be able to talk to him. We'll let you out
then," he was laughing at me, traitor that he was. "Here he comes.
We're just going on."

Now I saw my last chance of successfully performing my mission
disappearing beyond recall. I renewed my shouts and protests, but was
only laughed at for my pains. The railway officials at Basle might
have interfered, but Jules answered for me, declaring with a
significant gesture that I was in drink and that he would see to me.

I quite despaired. Already the train was moving out of the station,
when, to my intense joy, I caught sight of Ludovic Tiler, who came
down the platform running alongside us, and crying, "Falfani,
Falfani," as he recognized me.

"Don't mind me," I shouted to him. "I must go on, I can't help myself.
It's for you to take it up now. She's in the restaurant. You'll easily
know her, in a long ulster, with her maid and the child. You can't
miss