“I will look at her passport,” said the German, suddenly, and held out his hand.
“My passport is for both of us,” Stewart explained. “Those words ‘accompanied by his wife,’ make it inclusive.”
The officer went out into the light again and examined the words with minute attention.
“I find no description of her,” he said, coming back.
“There is none,” assented Stewart, impatiently; “but there is a description of me, as you see. The passport adds that I am accompanied by my wife. I tell you that this lady is my wife. That is sufficient.”
The officer glanced at his companions uncertainly. Then he slowly folded up the passport and handed it back.
“When do you depart from Aachen?” he asked.
“By the first train for Brussels. I am told that it will arrive in about half an hour.”
“Very well,” said the other. “I regret if I have seemed insistent, but the fact that the lady did not arrive with you appeared to us singular. I will report your explanation to my chief,” and he turned on his heel and stalked away, followed by his men.
Stewart drew a deep breath.