side of the corridor was heard all down the train. Selingman and
his companion followed the general example, opening the door of the
carriage and the window opposite. A draught blew through the compartment.
One of the small folded slips of paper from Selingman's pocket-book
fluttered along the seat. It came within reach of Norgate. Cautiously he
stretched out his fingers and gripped it. In a moment it was in his
pocket. He sat up in his place. Selingman had turned around.

"Anything the matter?" Norgate asked sleepily.

"Not that one can gather," Selingman replied. "You have slept well. I am
glad that our conversation has not disturbed you. This is my agent from
Brussels--Mr. Meyer. He sells our crockery in that city--not so much as
he should sell, perhaps, but still he does his best."

Mr. Meyer was a dark little man who wore gold-rimmed spectacles, neat
clothes, and a timid smile. Norgate nodded to him good-humouredly.

"You should get Herr Selingman to come oftener and help you," he
remarked, yawning. "I can imagine that he would be able to sell anything
he tried to."

"It is what I often tell him, sir," Mr. Meyer replied, "but he is too
fond of the English trade."

"English money is no better than Belgian," Herr Selingman declared, "but
there is more of it. Let us go round to the restaurant car and drink a
bottle of wine together while the beds are prepared."

"Certainly," Norgate assented, stretching himself. "By-the-by, you
had better look after your papers there, Herr Selingman. Just as I
woke up I saw a small slip fluttering along the seat. You made a most
infernal draught by opening that door, and I almost fancy it went out
of the window."

Herr Selingman's face became suddenly grave. He went through the papers
one by one, and finally locked them up in his bag.

"Nothing missing, I hope?" Norgate asked.

Herr Selingman's face was troubled.

"I am not sure," he said. "It is my belief that I had with me here a
list of my agents in England. I cannot find it. In a sense it is
unimportant, yet if a rival firm should obtain possession of it, there
might be trouble."

Norgate looked out into the night and smiled.

"Considering that it is blowing half a hurricane and commencing to rain,"
he remarked, "the slip of paper which I saw blowing about will be of no
use to any one when it is picked up."

They called the attendant and ordered him to prepare the sleeping
berths. Then they made their way down to