“Are you carrying fire-arms?”
“Have you any contraband?”
“Do you intend to stay in Germany?”
There was a pause. The passports were folded and on the point of being returned when another unintelligible conversation started.
The Captain smiled. “They're punctilious. As a matter of form, they want to hear you assert that you're the Philip Hindwood to whom this passport was issued.”
“Most certainly. They can prove that by comparing my face with the attached photograph.”
The Captain turned to Santa with the utmost suavity. “And that you're the Edith Jones, Mr. Hindwood's secretary.”
Having exploded his bomb, he rose. For a moment he seemed to hesitate as to whether he should expose them. Then, making a stiff bow, he murmured, “That's all.”
Directly he had departed, Hindwood locked the door behind him. “He shall ferret out no more of our secrets.”
From then on, they traveled in a state of siege. Several times they thought they heard a tapping. Whether it was the Captain's, they did not allow themselves to discover. They opened to no one whom they had not summoned.