"Come!" Feurgéres said quietly.
I followed him to the platform, where the saloon carriage and engine were already drawn up. Feurgéres brought with him his servant and all his luggage. A few curious porters and bystanders saw us start. No one, however, manifested any particular interest in us. There was no one whose business it seemed to be to watch us.
I sat back in my corner and looked out into the darkness. Feurgéres, opposite to me, was leaning back with half-closed eyes. From his soft, regular breathing it seemed almost as though he slept. For me there was no thought of rest or sleep. I made plans only to discard them, rehearsed speeches, appeals, threats, only to realize their hopeless ineffectiveness. And underneath it all was a dull constant pain, the pain which stays.
Our journey was about three-parts over when Feurgéres suddenly sat up in his seat, and opening his dressing-case, drew out a Continental timetable.
"In a sense that station-master was right," he remarked, turning over the leaves. "We shall not reach Paris any the sooner for taking this special train. On the other hand, we shall have time to ascertain in Dover whether our friends really have gone on to Calais, or whether they by any chance changed their minds and took the Ostend boat. I sincerely trust that that course will not have presented itself to them."
"Why?" I asked.
"Somewhere on the journey," he remarked, "they must pause. They will have to exchange Isobel for the Princess Adelaide, and make their plans for the disposal of Isobel. If they should do this, say, in Brussels, we shall be at a great disadvantage. If, however, they should stay in Paris, we should be in a different position altogether. The chief of the police is my friend. I am known there, and can command as good service as the Archduchess herself. We must hope that it will be Paris. If so, we shall arrive—let me see, six hours behind them; but supposing they do break their connection, we shall have still five hours in Paris with them before they can get on. If they are cautious they will go to Illghera viâ Brussels and their own country. If, however, they do not seriously regard the matter of pursuit they will go direct."
A few moments later we came to a standstill in the town station. Feurgéres let down the window, and talked for a few minutes with the station-master. Then he resumed his seat.
"We will go on to the quay," he said. "It is almost certain that our friends left by the Paris boat. We shall have four hours to wait, but we can secure our cabins, and perhaps sleep."
We moved slowly on to the quay. A few enquiries there completely assured us. Midway across the Channel, plainly visible still, was a disappearing green light.