gion?

All around him the tumult increased, amid repeated painful scenes. One
of these he found particularly distressing; for the people concerned
were French and he was better able to understand what they were
saying. There was a family, consisting of the father and mother, both
still young, and their six children, the smallest of whom, only a few
months old, was sleeping in its mother's arms. And the mother was
imploring her husband in a sort of despair:

"Don't let us go, please don't let us go! We're not obliged to!"

"But we are, my dear: you saw my partner's letter. And really there's
no occasion for all this distress!"

"Please, darling! . . . I have a presentiment. . . . You know I'm
always right. . . ."

"Would you rather I crossed alone?"

"Oh no! Not that!"

Simon heard no more. But he was never to forget that cry of a loving
wife, nor the grief-stricken expression of the mother who, at that
moment, was embracing her six children with a glance.

He made his escape. The clock pointed to half-past eleven; and Miss
Bakefield ought to be on her way. But, when he reached the quay, he
saw a motor-car turning the corner of a street; and at the window of
the car was Isabel's golden head. In a moment all his gloomy thoughts
were banished. He had not expected the girl for another twenty
minutes; and, though he was not afraid of suffering, he had made up
his mind that those last twenty minutes would be a period of distress
and anxiety. Would she keep her promise? Might she not meet with some
unforeseen obstacle? . . . And here was Isabel arriving!

Yesterday he had determined, as a measure of precaution, not to speak
to her until they had taken their places on the boat. However, as soon
as Simon saw her step out of the car, he ran to meet her. She was
wrapped in a grey cloak and carried a rug rolled in a strap. A sailor
followed with her travelling-bag.

"Excuse me, Isabel," said Simon, "but something so serious has
happened that I am bound to consult you. The telegrams, in fact,
mention a whole series of catastrophes which have occurred precisely
in the part which we shall have to cross."

Isabel did not seem much put out:

"You're saying this, Simon, in a very calm tone which does not match
your words at all."

"It's because I'm so happy!" he murmured.

Their eyes met in a long and penetrating glance. Then she continued:

"What would you do, Simon, if you were alone?"

And, when he hesitated what