"I thought so," remarked St. Nivel; "you'd better look sharp, Bill, if you want to make that packet safe."
As he spoke, he held out towards me an open cigar-box which he had taken out of the rack.
Then I saw what he was aiming at; he wished me for some reason to hide my packet among the cigars in the box.
I did not hesitate a moment, but put my hand in my trousers pocket, and pulling out the precious packet, placed it among the cigars.
He immediately covered it with more cigars, and then put the box back in the rack.
There was a sudden stillness in the front of the train, and I saw through the windows of the smoking-car quite a cloud of horsemen ride up the permanent way and dismount; apparently the forepart of the train had been already occupied, for we heard the sound of a by no means unpleasant voice making in English the following request:—
"Hands up, gentlemen."
I was unused to this sort of thing, but St. Nivel apparently knew all about it, for he sat back in his seat with a curse between his teeth.
"What does it mean?" asked Ethel and I, almost in a breath.
"It means," answered St. Nivel, "that we are going to be robbed."