“Tears were rolling down her pale cheeks as she snatched up my hand convulsively, imploring me to assist her. I looked into her countenance and saw that it was the same that I had seen in those dark night hours in Sofia.
”‘But, mademoiselle, how can I help you?’ I inquired. ‘What can I do?’
”‘Ah! I—I hardly like to ask you,’ she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. ‘You know so very little of me.’
”‘I know sufficient to be permitted to call myself your friend,’ I said earnestly, still holding her tiny hand.
”‘Then I will be frank,’ she exclaimed, raising her clear eyes again to mine. ‘The only way in which you can save me is to take me at once to England—to—to let me pass as your wife!’
”‘As my wife!’ I gasped, staring at her. ‘But—’
”‘There are no buts!’ she cried, clinging to me imploringly. ‘To me it is a matter of life—or death! The Orient Express passes here at three to-morrow morning for Constantza, whence we can get to Constantinople. Thence we can go by steamer on to Naples, and across to Calais by rail. For me it is unsafe to go direct by Budapest and Vienna. Already the police are watching at the frontier.’
“For a moment I was silent. In the course of years of travel I had met with many adventures, but none anything like this! Here was a charming girl in dire distress—a girl who had already enchanted me by her beauty and grace—appealing to my honour to help her out of a difficulty. Nay to save her life!
“She was Russian—no doubt a political suspect.
”‘Where is Madame?’ I inquired.