The girl put out her hand, touching his. "Did you see?" she breathed, "There—on the platform—Boris, the Chief of the Third Section!—He was watching!"
Velasco laughed again aloud, happily, like a boy: "What of it? Let him watch! Put up your veil, Kaya. Great heavens, what a night it has been! My heart is going still like a hammer—is yours? Lean back on the cushions—put up your veil. Let me see you once,—let me see you! Look at me as you did in the Theatre—Kaya! Don't tremble."
"He is there," breathed the girl, "I see him behind the curtain! He is talking to the official—The train is late and it doesn't start. Why doesn't it start?"
She gave a little moan and peered out through the veil: "Something has happened, Monsieur! The officials are clustered together, talking—there is some excitement! They are gesticulating and several are pointing to the train! What is it—what is it?"
Velasco laughed again; but the laugh died in his throat. The two turned and gazed at one another with wide, frightened eyes.
"The Chief of the Third Section—see! He is going from compartment to compartment—He is looking at the passports! He is coming here—here!"
CHAPTER VI
"Your passports, Monsieur—Madame?"
Velasco thrust his hand slowly into the breast pocket of his coat and drew out the precious papers. His manner was cold and indifferent, and his eyes had narrowed into sleepy slits again beneath the heaviness of his brows.