Algernon presently fell into an uneasy slumber; but Juliet could not close her eyes. She noted closely, without being aware that she did so, every detail of the dress and demeanour of her fellow-passengers—the little Swiss governess whose broad, beaming countenance plainly proclaimed that she was going home for her holidays; the selfish man, probably deeming himself a gentleman, who had taken the corner seat, whilst his weary wife sat without any support for her head; the two young Englishwomen, looking happy and capable, who were evidently going on a tour by themselves—how Juliet envied them!—and others more or less remarkable, who all in some strange way afforded her food for bitter reflection. What a curious, unreal nightmare of a journey that was to Juliet!
It was early morning when they arrived in Paris, so early that the air was raw and chill, and Juliet shook with cold as she roused herself and followed Algernon along the platform. Everything which met her eyes added to the sense of unreality which possessed her mind. Her fellow-passengers, wan and dishevelled from their night's journey, the blue-bloused porters noisily vociferating, the officials in strange uniform, the foreign names and novel arrangements, all affected her with a vague feeling of discomfort.
"We will get your trunk and drive at once to an hotel," said Algernon.
But the trunk was not easily found, and when claimed, it had to be examined. Algernon chafed under the delay. At last the trunk was secured, and a porter carried it to a cab. It was hoisted on to the box; the smaller articles were put within the vehicle; Juliet had taken her seat, Algernon had instructed the driver where to take them, and his foot was on the step, when suddenly a hand was laid on his arm, and the voice of a French official pronounced his name, adding a few words which drove all the colour in an instant from his face.
Juliet could not understand the words. She had already discovered that her knowledge of French, acquired from books, but ill-fitted her to comprehend the language when spoken around her by native tongues. But though the words convoyed no meaning to her, the effect she saw them to produce on Algernon thrilled her with alarm.
And the next moment, another official advanced to Algernon, saying in English—"Monsieur, you are arrested."
Algernon faltered a few words in French, to the effect that there was a mistake.
"Ah, no, monsieur, there is no mistake. We have our orders. See, here is a warrant. This—is it not your name? You will do well to come with us tranquilly. There is no good in making a scene. Monsieur will bid madame adieu and come with us."
Apparently Algernon recognised the wisdom of the advice to make no scene. He turned and spoke to Juliet, his face still utterly colourless.
"Juliet, dearest, there is some tremendous mistake; but I must go with them and explain. You had better drive on to the hotel, and I will join you there immediately."