"Very possibly your name may not be Marker, though you booked under it on the St. Paul; but you are undoubtedly acquainted with the old rascal at the Cecil who calls himself Ziegler," Beaumanoir retorted.
"You seem to know a powerful sight more about me than I know myself," was the sullen reply.
Beaumanoir made a long scrutiny of the weak but cunning countenance of the spy, and he came to the conclusion that this was one of the underlings of the combination, to be trusted only with minor tasks in the great game. His presence there under the seat of the compartment was the more unaccountable, since he was not the sort of creature with either nerve or physique to murder anything stronger than a fly.
"Look here, my good chap," said Beaumanoir with tolerant contempt, after, as he thought, gauging Mr. Marker's caliber. "You've got a bit out of your depth with the people you're trying to swim with. Why not chuck Ziegler and Co. and come over to me? I'll make it worth your while."
But the only response was a dull shake of the insignificant head and the sulky rejoinder: "I don't know what you're getting at, Mister. I'll chuck anybody you like and come over to you with pleasure if you will stand the price of a ticket to St. Albans."
The persistent denial was as absurd as the suggested reason for his presence under the seat, and Beaumanoir began to lose patience. "I suppose," he said, "that you will maintain that you did not go to Mr. Forsyth's chambers in John Street last night under the pretence of being a chemist's messenger?"
"Never been in John Street in my life," came back the pat and obvious lie.
It seemed useless to argue further, and Beaumanoir preserved silence till the train ran into Radlett Station, when he put into practice the course he had decided upon. At least he would force the creature to disclosure and put him to some inconvenience, as it was possible that thereby he might disconcert his plans, whatever they might be. Lowering the window, he called to the guard, and informed the astonished official that he had found a man traveling under the seat without a ticket.
Then uprose the righteous wrath of the guard, who had Mr. Marker by the collar in a trice and twisted him out on to the platform with the sharp demand:
"Now, young man, your name and address, and quick about it."