He had made his escape from the hotel without any very serious difficulty, and since that time, although he had taken no particular precautions, he had remained unmolested. From his own point of view, therefore, it was perhaps only reasonable that he should no longer have any misgiving as to his personal safety. Arrest as a thief was the worst which he had feared. Even that he seemed now to have evaded. 

 The coupe was exceedingly comfortable and, after all, he had had a somewhat exciting day. He lit a cigarette and stretched himself out with a murmur of immense satisfaction. He was close upon the great triumph of his life. He was perfectly content to lie there and look out upon the flying landscape, upon which the shadows were now fast descending. He was safe, absolutely safe, he assured himself. Nevertheless, when the door of his coupe was opened, he started almost like a guilty man. The relief in his face as he recognized his visitor was obvious. It was Bellamy who entered and dropped into a seat by his side. 

 “Wasting your time, aren’t you?” the latter remarked, pointing to the growing heap of cigarettes. 

 “Well, I guess not,” Dorward answered. “I can smoke this lot before we reach London.” 

 Bellamy smiled enigmatically. 

 “I don’t think that you will,” he said. 

 “Why not?” 

 “You are such a sanguine person,” Bellamy sighed. “Personally, I do not think that there is the slightest chance of your reaching London at all.” 

 Dorward laughed scornfully. 

 “And why not?” he asked. 

 Bellamy merely shrugged his shoulders. Dorward seemed to find the gesture irritating. 

 “You’ve got espionage on the brain, my dear friend,” he declared dryly. “I suppose it’s the result of your profession. I may not know so much about Europe as you do, but I am inclined to think that an American citizen traveling with his passport on a train like this is moderately safe, especially when he’s not above a scrap by way of taking care of himself.” 

 “You’re a plucky fellow,” remarked Bellamy. 

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