"Open that bag and we'll believe you!" he shouted.
Sarakoff glared at him defiantly.
I recognized his accuser at once. It was Lord Alberan, the famous Tory obstructionist.
"Anarchist!" Lord Alberan's voice rang out sharply. He took out a handkerchief and mopped his face.
"Arrest him!" he said to the constable with an air of satisfaction. "I knew he was an anarchist the moment I set eyes on him at Dover. There is an infernal machine in that bag. The man reeks of vodka. He is mad."
"Idiot," exclaimed Sarakoff, with great vehemence. "I drink nothing but water."
"He wishes to destroy London," said Lord Alberan coldly. "There is enough dynamite in that bag to blow the whole of Trafalgar Square into fragments. Arrest him instantly."
I stepped forward from the shadows by the door. Sarakoff uttered a cry of pleasure.
"Ah, Harden, I knew you would come. Get me out of this stupid situation!"
"What is the matter?" I asked, glancing at the station-master. He explained briefly that Lord Alberan and Sarakoff had travelled up in the same compartment from Dover, and that Sarakoff's strange restlessness and excited movements had roused Lord Alberan's suspicions. As a consequence Sarakoff had been detained for examination.