“How long ago?” I asked, startled at the position, which I at once recognised as extremely critical.
“I don’t know. Perhaps a quarter of an hour.”
Without hesitation I opened the door, and, affecting carelessness, passed to the centre of the car, where there was a cupboard in which were stored our provisions. On looking inside, I saw on the lower shelf an object which I had conveyed from London. It was certainly not suspicious-looking; merely a small-sized loaf of white sugar, the conical top of which had during the day been broken off and used, while part of its original blue paper wrapping still remained.
During the whole of the journey I had exercised the greatest caution that it should be kept in a horizontal position; but one of the servants, probably noticing it rolling backwards and forwards with the oscillation of the train, had set it on end in a corner of the cupboard. Stooping, I was about to replace it in its original position, when my fingers came in contact with some sticky liquid.
I saw it was too late! Closing the cupboard, I quickly rejoined Ivan.
“Well,” he whispered, “what can we do?”
“Nothing,” I replied breathlessly. “We have but one chance.”
“What’s that?”
“To leap for life.”