ned. The man had promised to accompany me willingly,
while I had expected a difficult matter in getting him to England.

Early the next day we were on our way to England, Simon and I taking
turns in watching the wily Egyptian.

CHAPTER XIX

THE SECOND CHRISTMAS EVE

The skies were clear when we left Turin, and the air pure and free. We
had not got far into France, however, when we found everything changed.
It was snow--snow everywhere. On ordinary occasions I should not have
minded much, but now everything depended on my getting to London at a
certain hour. How slowly the train seemed to creep, to be sure; and how
long we stopped at the little roadside stations!

Simon did his best to cheer me, while Kaffar furtively watched us both,
as if in fear. I was silent and fearful, for I felt sure the Egyptian
meditated escape. The laughter of the light-hearted French people, who
were preparing for Christmas festivities, grated on my ears; for,
although I had succeeded almost beyond my hopes, a great fear rested
upon me that I should fail even yet. Especially was this realized when
I knew that our train was hours late, and I knew that did we not arrive
in Paris at something like reasonable time, we should miss the express
trains for England.

When we got to the French metropolis we were nearly five hours late. It
was not to be wondered at, for the snow fell in blinding drifts, until,
in some cases, the railways were completely blocked. The wonder was how
we got to Paris so soon, when we considered what had to be contended
with.

Anxiously I inquired after trains by which I could catch the boats for
England, but the replies were vague. First, it was now Christmas Eve,
which at all times caused the general traffic to be delayed; and,
second, the weather was so bad that to state times of arrival was
impossible.

It was now Wednesday morning, and I started from Paris with sixteen
hours before me in which to get to London. Ordinarily I should have had
time enough and to spare, but everything was delayed and confused. I had
thought of going back by Dieppe and Newhaven; but a storm was blowing,
and I knew that meant a longer sea-passage, so I went to Calais, thus
riding through one of the most uninteresting parts of France. It was
five o'clock on Christmas Eve when we arrived at this little French
seaport, and then it took us two hours to cross the straits, although we
happened to be on one of the fast-sailing steame