The stop at Modane seemed interminable. At last, however, the French passport officials finished their work and the train began to move again.
Graham went out into the corridor.
Except for the dim blue safety lights, the train was in darkness now. He made his way slowly towards the third-class coaches. There were only two of them, and he had no difficulty in finding Josette and José. They were in a compartment by themselves.
She turned her head as he slid the door open and peered at him uncertainly. Then, as he moved forward into the blue glow from the ceiling of the compartment, she started up with a cry.
“But what has happened?” she demanded. “Where have you been? We waited, José and I, until the last moment, but you did not come as you had promised. We waited. José will tell you how we waited. Tell me what happened.”
“I missed the train at Genoa. I had a long drive to catch it up.”
“You drove to Bardonecchia! It is not possible!”
“No. To Asti.”
There was a silence. They had been speaking in French. Now José gave a short laugh and, sitting back in his corner, began to pick his teeth with his thumbnail.
Josette dropped the cigarette she had been smoking on to the floor and trod on it. “You got on the train at Asti,” she remarked lightly, “and you wait until now before you come to see me? It is very polite.” She paused and then added slowly: “But you will not keep me waiting like that in Paris, will you, chéri?”