the
fact, and take all necessary precautions. He was a burly, brusque,
peremptory person, the despotic, self-important French official, who
knew what to do--as he thought--and did it without hesitation or
apology.

"No one must leave the car," he said in a tone not to be misunderstood.
"Neither now, nor on arrival at the station."

There was a shout of protest and dismay, which he quickly cut short.

"You will have to arrange it with the authorities in Paris; they can
alone decide. My duty is plain: to detain you, place you under
surveillance till then. Afterwards, we will see. Enough, gentlemen and
madame"--

He bowed with the instinctive gallantry of his nation to the female
figure which now appeared at the door of her compartment. She stood for
a moment listening, seemingly greatly agitated, and then, without a
word, disappeared, retreating hastily into her own private room, where
she shut herself in.

Almost immediately, at a signal from the conductor, the train resumed
its journey. The distance remaining to be traversed was short; half an
hour more, and the Lyons station, at Paris, was reached, where the bulk
of the passengers--all, indeed, but the occupants of the
sleeper--descended and passed through the barriers. The latter were
again desired to keep their places, while a posse of officials came and
mounted guard. Presently they were told to leave the car one by one, but
to take nothing with them. All their hand-bags, rugs, and belongings
were to remain in the berths, just as they lay. One by one they were
marched under escort to a large and bare waiting-room, which had, no
doubt, been prepared for their reception.

Here they took their seats on chairs placed at wide intervals apart, and
were peremptorily forbidden to hold any communication with each other,
by word or gesture. This order was enforced by a fierce-looking guard in
blue and red uniform, who stood facing them with his arms folded,
gnawing his moustache and frowning severely.

Last of all, the porter was brought in and treated like the passengers,
but more distinctly as a prisoner. He had a guard all to himself; and it
seemed as though he was the object of peculiar suspicion. It had no
great effect upon him, for, while the rest of the party were very
plainly sad, and a prey to lively apprehension, the porter sat dull and
unmoved, with the stolid, sluggish, unconcerned aspect of a man just
roused from sound sleep and relapsing into slumber,