"Halte-là!... Attention!... F——e!"
The young man in the grey suit pushed his way through the protesting porters and leapt nimbly for the footboard of the guard's van as the Paris-Evreux express steamed out of the Invalides. The guard, with an eye to a tip, fielded him adroitly from among the detaining hands.
"It is happy for monsieur that he is so agile," he remarked. "Monsieur is in a hurry?"
"Somewhat. Thank you. I can get through by the corridor?"
"But certainly. The premières are two coaches away, beyond the luggage-van."
The young man rewarded his rescuer, and made his way forward, mopping his face. As he passed the piled-up luggage, something caught his eye, and he stopped to investigate. It was a suit-case, nearly new, of expensive-looking leather, labelled conspicuously:
LORD PETER WIMSEY,
Hôtel Saumon d'Or,
Verneuil-sur-Eure
and bore witness to its itinerary thus:
LONDON—PARIS
(Waterloo) (Gare St. Lazare)
via Southampton-Havre
PARIS—VERNEUIL
(Ch. de Fer de l'Ouest)