t in
the corridor. It is hot here."

Bellamy glided out, closing the door softly behind him. The train
was rushing on now through the blackness of an unusually dark night.
For some time he sat in his own compartment, listening. The voices
whose muttered conversation he had overheard were silent now, but
once he fancied that he heard shuffling footsteps and a little cry.
In his heart he knew well that before morning Dorward would have
disappeared. The man within him was hard to subdue. He longed to
make his way to Dorward's side, to interfere in this terribly
unequal struggle, yet he made no movement. Dorward was a man and a
friend, but what was a life more or less? It was to a greater cause
that he was pledged. Towards three o'clock he lay down on his bed
and slept....

The train attendant brought him his coffee soon after daylight. The
man's hands were trembling.

"Where are we?" Bellamy asked sleepily.

"Near Munich, Monsieur," the man answered. "Monsieur noticed,
perhaps, that we stopped for some time in the night?"

Bellamy shook his head.

"I sleep soundly," he said. "I heard nothing."

"There has been an accident," the man declared. "An American
gentleman who got in at Vienna was drinking whiskey all night and
became very drunk. In a tunnel he threw himself out upon the line."

Bellamy shuddered a little. He had been prepared, but none the
less it was an awful thing, this.

"You are sure that he is dead?" he asked.

The man was very sure indeed.

"There is a doctor from Vienna upon the train, sir," he said. "He
examined him at once, but death must have been instantaneous."

Bellamy drew a long breath and commenced to put on his clothes.
The next move was for him.

CHAPTER V

"VON BEHRLING HAS THE PACKET"

Bellamy stole along the half-lit corridors of the train until he
came to the coupe which had been reserved for Mademoiselle Idiale.
Assured that he was not watched, he softly turned the handle of
the door and entered. Louise was sitting up in her dressing-gown,
drinking her coffee. He held up his finger and she greeted him
only with a nod.

"Forgive me, Louise," he whispered, "I dared not knock, and I was
obliged to see you at once."

She smiled.

"It is of no consequence," she said. "One is always prepared here.
The porter, the ticket-man, and at the customs--they all enter.
Is anything wrong?"

"It has happened," he answered.

She shivered a little and her