“All right,” said Siegel, after a moment’s pause; and the two went off followed by several of the other men.
“Do you think it is?” asked one of the officials at the barrier of his colleague.
“I’m sure it is,” was the reply. “He’ll resume his journey all right, but—” he jerked his thumb backwards and winked. And the incident was closed so far as the public were concerned.
The women passengers were now beginning to come out from a separate door; but I saw nothing of Helga and my hopes for her safety ebbed as the number of the women increased.
Some of them were speaking of their examination, and I heard to my dismay that in more than one case there had been a most rigorous personal search. They were loud in protest at the indignity.
“She actually made me take down my hair to see if I had anything concealed in it,” said a German woman to a friend, as the two passed me. “You never saw such a disgraceful scene.”
Still there was no sign of Helga; and keen though I was for news of her, when we were told the train would soon start, I dared not linger lest I should draw attention and suspicion upon myself.
I was in a fever of anxiety during the last few minutes as I stood by the door of the car straining my hungry eyes in vain for a sight of her.
Then the detective who had been on the train with me came along, his face wearing a satisfied expression. He caught sight of me, smiled and nodded as he passed, then stopped, turned and came up and spoke.
“Bon voyage, monsieur. Then you are not going back?”