In compartment 2 there was also a rose-kimono. It was wrapped about the graceful body of The Yellow Typhoon. She wound a veil about her head, dropping it to the tip of her nose. Then she picked up her dress, her toilet-bag, and started off for the ladies' dressing-room. There wasn't room to dress in the compartment, as the berths had not been made up. She had slept through the major part of the day. She floated past compartment 6, the door of which was slightly ajar. It had been slightly ajar ever since the departure from Chicago.
Fifteen minutes later George, the porter, heard the buzzer. Passenger in 6 was calling. He hurried off. It was George's trysting-hour. Tips.
"The luggage to the trap, please. We wish to leave instantly the train stops at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street."
"Yes'm."
"I note that you wear a Liberty Bond button."
"Yes'm. Got two."
"Then you are a good American?"
"I sho' is, ma'am."
"Very well, then. Here is a box. After the train leaves One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, you will give this box to the gentleman in compartment one. I am trusting you because I have to. It is military. If you fail to deliver it you betray your country, and in that case woe to you! He will ask you who gave it to you. You will tell him the lady in compartment two."
"Yes'm!" George's tongue had grown suddenly and mysteriously thick and dry.