whether he was lying out on the dark ground beneath the stars unaware of
it and indifferent. Hillyard nursed a hope that some blunder had been
made, and that he would find his compartment occupied.

The controller, in his brown uniform with the brass buttons and his
peaked cap, stood at the steps of the car with the attendant.

"Eleven and twelve," said Hillyard, handing to him his ticket.

The attendant, a middle-aged, stout man with a black moustache and a
greasy face, shot one keen glance from under the peak of his cap at the
occupant of numbers 11 and 12, and then led the way along the corridor.

The compartment was empty. Hillyard looked around it with a grudging
eye.

"I am near the middle of the coach here, I think," he said.

"Yes, monsieur, quite in the middle."

"That is well," answered Hillyard. "I am an invalid, and cannot sleep
when there is much motion."

He spoke irritably, with that tone of grievance peculiar to the man who
thinks his health is much worse than it is.

"Can I get coffee in the morning?" he asked.

"At half-past six, monsieur. But you must get out of the train for it."

Hillyard uttered an exclamation of disgust, and shrugged his shoulders.
"What a country!" the gesture said as plainly as speech.

"But it is the war, monsieur!" the attendant expostulated with
indignation.

"Oh, yes, I know! The war!" Hillyard retorted with ill-humour. "Do I
want a bath? I cannot have it. It is the war. If a waiter is rude to me,
it is the war. If my steak is over-cooked it is the war. The war! It is
the excuse for everything."

He told the porter to place his bag upon the upper berth, and, still
grumbling, gave him some money. He turned sharply on the attendant, who
was smiling in the doorway.

"Ah, it seems to you funny that an invalid should be irritable, eh?" he
cried. "I suppose it must be--damnably funny."

"Monsieur, there are very many men who would like to-night to be
invalids with a sleeping compartment to themselves," returned the
attendant severely.

"Well, I don't want to talk about it any more," said Hillyard roughly,
and he shouldered his way out again on to the platform.

The attendant followed him. The smile upon his face was sleeker than
ever. He was very amused and contented with his passenger in the
compartment numbers 11 and 12. He took the cap off his head and wiped
the perspiration from his forehead.

"Ouf! It is hot to-night." He looked after Hillyard with a c