Lavendale drew slightly on one side. A soldier, with fixed bayonet, slipped into the little space between the two cars. Major Elwell turned towards the passenger.
'Sorry to trouble you, sir,' he said, 'but I must ask you to step inside the guardroom for a moment.'
'What do you want with me?' was the quick reply.
'You've landed from a steamer here, rather an exceptional thing to do anyway,' Major Elwell explained. 'There are just a few questions we should like to ask.'
'I'm an American citizen,' the other declared. 'I have my passport here. I can land where I choose.'
'In ordinary times, without a doubt,' the Major replied smoothly. 'Just now, I am sorry to be troublesome, but there are some new enactments which have to be considered. We shall have to ask you to give up anything you may have in the way of correspondence, for instance, to be censored.'
There was a moment's silence. The face of the man in the car had suddenly become tense. Lavendale, who had been looking around, gave a little start.
'Why, it's Johnson!' he exclaimed—'Leonard Johnson! You remember me, don't you—Lavendale?'
The man in the car nodded eagerly.
'Of course!' he assented. 'Look here, if you've any pull in these parts, I wish you'd persuade this officious gentleman to let me go on quickly. I'm in a hurry to reach London.'