The train had not quite halted when the door was torn open, and a bespectacled, red-faced officer glared in.
“It is reported from Cologne that there are English in this carriage,” he shouted.
“Correct, my friend. There they are!” said the man who had snarled at Dalroy earlier.
“You must descend,” commanded the new-comer. “You are both under arrest.”
“On what charge?” inquired Dalroy, bitterly conscious of a gasp of terror which came involuntarily from the girl’s lips.
“You are spies. A sentry heard you talking English, and saw you examining troop-trains from the carriage window.”
So that Bavarian lout had listened to the Prussian officer’s taunt, and made a story of his discovery to prove his diligence.
“We are not spies, nor have we done anything to warrant suspicion,” said Dalroy quietly. “I have letters——”
“No talk. Out you come!” and he was dragged forth by a bloated fellow whom he could have broken with his hands. It was folly to resist, so he merely contrived to keep on his feet, whereas the fat bully meant to trip him ignominiously on to the platform.