I took out my cigarette case. "My dear Savaroff," I said coldly, "why on earth should I want to break my agreement with you? It is the only possible chance I have of a new start."
He looked at me closely, and then nodded his head. "It is well. So long as you remember we are not people to be played with, no harm will come to you."
He let this off with such a dramatic air that I very nearly burst out laughing.
"I shan't forget it," I said gravely. "I've got a very good memory."
There was a shrill whistle from the engine, followed by a warning shout of "Stand back there, please; stand back, sir!" I had a last glimpse of Savaroff's unpleasant face, as he hurriedly withdrew his head, and then with a slight jerk the train began to move slowly out of the station.
I didn't open my papers at once. For some time I just sat where I was in the corner and stared out contentedly over the passing landscape. There is nothing like prison to broaden one's ideas about pleasure. Up till the time of my trial I had never looked on a railway journey as a particularly fascinating experience; now it seemed to me to be simply chock-full of delightful sensations. The very names of the stations—Totnes, Newton Abbot, Teignmouth—filled me with a sort of curious pleasure: they were part of the world that I had once belonged to—the gay, free, jolly world of work and laughter that I had thought lost to me for ever. I felt so absurdly contented that for a little while I almost forgot about George.
The only stop we made was at Exeter. There were not many people on the platform, and I had just decided that I was not going to be disturbed, when suddenly a fussy-looking little old gentleman emerged from the booking office, followed by a porter carrying his bag. They came straight for my carriage.
The old gentleman reached it first, and puckering up his face, peered in at me through the window. Apparently the inspection was a success.
"This will do," he observed. "Leave my bag on the seat, and go and see that my portmanteau is safely in the van. Then if you come back here I will give you threepence for your trouble."
Dazzled by the prospect, the porter hurried off on his errand, and with a little grunt the old gentleman began to hoist himself in through the door. I put out my hand to assist him.