The girl’s voice broke and Topham started forward, flinging resolutions to the wind.
“Elsa,” he cried. “I—”
But the voice of Ferreira broke in. “Cab’s waiting, Elsa,” he called. “Come along! Hurry! Or you’ll make Senor Topham and me miss our train.”
Recalled to himself by the interruption, Topham raised the girl’s hand to his lips, then dropped it and saw her led away.
Soon Ferreira was back. “Quick, Senor Topham!” he called. “The train’s waiting.”
Many people apparently were going to Berlin, but few of them appeared to hold first-class tickets, and the two young men speedily found an empty carriage, in which they ensconced themselves.
Ferreira promptly leaned out of the window. “Here! guard,” he said, holding out his hand. “I don’t want to be bothered with other people! You understand!” A piece of silver changed hands and the Brazilian settled back.
Then he turned and nodded to Topham.
“We’ll try to keep this compartment to ourselves, senor,” he said. “I detest travelling shut in with three or four others. I suppose you agree with me.”
Topham answered that he did.