“It is of no consequence,” she said. “One is always prepared here. The porter, the ticket-man, and at the customs—they all enter. Is anything wrong?”
“It has happened,” he answered.
She shivered a little and her face became grave.
“Poor fellow!” she murmured.
“He simply sat still and asked for it,” Bellamy declared, still speaking in a cautious undertone. “He would not be warned. I could have saved him, if any one could, but he would not hear reason.”
“He was what you call pig-headed,” she remarked.
“He has paid the penalty,” Bellamy continued. “Now listen to me, Louise. I got into that small coupe next to Von Behrling’s, and I feel sure, from what I overheard, that they will go on to London, all three of them.”
“Who is there on the train?” she demanded.
“Baron Streuss, who is head of the Secret Police, Von Behrling and Adolf Kahn,” Bellamy answered. “Then there are four or five Secret Service men of the rank and file, but they are all traveling separately. Von Behrling has the packet. The others form a sort of cordon around him.”
“But why,” she asked, “does he go on to London? Why not return to Vienna?”