They settled themselves comfortably and closed their eyes. Five minutes later, as the train sped on in the darkness, they slept peacefully, utterly oblivious of the danger they were in or of what the morrow might bring forth.
How long they slept neither lad could tell, but it seemed to each that he had hardly closed his eyes when he was awakened by loud voices without. Both were awake instantly and as instantly each recognized the fact that the train was at a standstill. Light streamed through the window.
“Must be Moscow,” muttered Jack.
“Right you are,” Frank agreed. “But why all this fuss on the outside.”
“I don’t know why nor what,” said Jack. “If they would only talk a white man’s language we might learn what it is all about.”
“Or German,” Frank agreed.
At this moment the door to their compartment was thrown rudely open and a uniformed figure—that of a colonel of cavalry—appeared in the doorway.
Jack drew himself up.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded in French. “Why do you force your way into our compartment?”
“That,” said the officer, also in French, “you will learn in good time. You are under arrest.”