But in spite of themselves, the conversation lagged; and they finally sat silent.
How strange a thing was chance, Stewart pondered. Here was he who, until to-day, had seen his life stretching before him ordered and prosaic, cast suddenly into the midst of strange adventure. Here was this girl, whom he had known for only a few hours and yet seemed to have known for years—whom he certainly knew better than he had ever known any other woman There was Bloem—he had been cast into adventure, too. Was he outside somewhere, among all those thousands, gazing up at the stars and wondering at Fate? And the thousands themselves—the millions mustering at this moment into the armies of Europe—to what tragic adventure were they being hurried!
A quick step came along the platform and stopped at the door; there was the snap of a lock, and the door swung open.
“You will come out,” said a voice in English.
Against the lights of the station, Stewart saw outlined the figure of a man in uniform. He rose wearily.
“Come, dear,” he said, and helped her to her feet; “it seems we are to go somewhere else.” Then he looked down at the heavy bags. “I can’t carry those things all over creation,” he said; “what’s more, I won’t.”
“I will attend to that,” said the stranger, and put a whistle to his lips and blew a shrill blast. Two men came running up. “You will take those bags,” he ordered. “Follow me,” he added to Stewart.
They followed him along the platform, crossed the track to another, and came at last to a great empty shed with a low table running along one side. The men placed the bags upon this table and withdrew.
“I shall have to search them,” said the officer. “Are they locked?”
He stood in the glare of a lamp hanging from the rafters, and for the first time, Stewart saw his face. The man smiled at his start of surprise.