“You needn’t.  You need never come to me again,” she said, white lipped.  And the guard whistled, waving his green flag.

“Don’t dare to say such a cruel thing—­a thing you don’t mean!” I cried, catching at the closed door of a first-class compartment.  As I did so, a little man inside jumped to the window and shouted, “Reserved!  Don’t you see it’s reserved?” which explained the fact that the door seemed to be fastened.

I stepped back, my eyes falling on the label to which the man pointed, and would have tried the handle of the next carriage, had not two men rushed at the door as the train began to move, and dexterously opened it with a railway key.  Their throwing themselves thus in my way would have lost me my last chance of catching the moving train, had I not dashed in after them.  If I could choose, I would be the last man to obtrude myself where I was not wanted, but there was no time to choose; and I was thankful to get in anywhere, rather than break my word.  Besides, my heart was too sore at leaving Diana as I had had to leave her, to care much for anything else.  I had just sense enough to fight my way in, though the two men with the key (not the one who had occupied the compartment first), now yelled that it was reserved, and would have pushed me out if I hadn’t been too strong for them.  I had a dim impression that, instead of joining with the newcomers, the first man, who would have kept the place to himself before their entrance, seemed willing to aid me against the others.  They being once foisted upon him, he appeared to wish for my presence too, or else he merely desired to prevent me from being dashed onto the platform and perhaps killed, for he thrust out a hand and tried to pull me in.

At the same time a guard came along, protesting against the unseemly struggle, and the carriage door was slammed shut upon us all four.

When I got my balance, and was able to look out, the train had gone so far that Diana and Lisa had been swept away from my sight.  It was like a bad omen; and the fear was cold upon me that I had lost my love for ever.

At that moment I suffered so atrociously that if it had not been too late, I fear I should have sacrificed Maxine and the Foreign Secretary and even the Entente Cordiale (provided he had not been exaggerating) for Di’s sake, and love’s sake.  But there was no going back now, even if I would.  The train was already travelling almost at full speed, and there was nothing to do but resign myself to the inevitable, and hope for the best.  Someone, it was clear, had tried to work mischief between Diana and me, and there were only too many chances that he had succeeded.  Could it be Bob West, I asked myself, as I half-dazedly looked for a place to sit down among the litter of small luggage with which the first occupant of the carriage had strewn every seat.  I knew that Bob was as much in love with Di as a man of his rather unintellectual, unimaginative type could be, and he hadn’t shown himself as friendly lately to me as he once had:  still, I didn’t think he was the sort of fellow to trip up a rival in the race by a trick, even if he could possibly have found out that I was going to Paris this morning.