I pleaded and stormed in turn, I tried everything but force, all without avail.  My foolish sister seemed to have taken leave of her senses; she thought nothing of the nearly certain collapse of our schemes, her one overmastering idea was, like any tigress, to resist all attempts to deprive her of her cub.

Meanwhile the time ran on.  Already the officials were crying “En voiture,” and I knew my train was timed to leave at five minutes past 8 A.M.  If I lingered I should lose it, no great matter perhaps, seeing that the exchange, my principal object, had not been made; but if I remained with Henriette, she with her baby and I with mine, the whole of the artifice might at any moment be laid bare.

I had to decide then and there, and all I could think of at the time was to keep the enemy in the dark as to the doubled part of the baby.  At first I thought of sending Philpotts on alone with her charge and remaining with Henriette.  She was so helpless, so weak and vacillating that I had small hope of her getting through to Fuentellato by herself.  That was clearly the wisest course, and I should have taken it, but I was sorely vexed and put out by her obstinate refusal to play her part; and I told her so.

“Once more and for the last time, Henriette, will you do what I want?” I asked her peremptorily.

She only hugged her baby the closer and whispered a soft lullaby.

“Then I shall go on with the other.  It may be best.  They may still be drawn after me, and leave you to your own devices.  The only thing for you to do is to take the first train the other way,—­it will be here in ten minutes,—­keep low and you may get through into Italy unobserved.”

“Are you really deserting me?” she cried piteously.  “When shall I see you again?”

“I shall go round the long journey to Marseilles, by the South of France, and will join you at Fuentellato.  There is no reason why you should not get there.  Colonel Annesley will detain the others here, you may be sure of that.  Good-bye, now,” and without another word Philpotts and I ran round, regained the up platform, resumed our seats by the narrowest margin and proceeded on our way to Amberieu.

The reaction from this agitating scene was little less than despair and collapse.  So soon as I could bring myself to think calmly and at leisure, I realized that I had done a very foolish thing.  Was it possible for Henriette to get off by herself?  Hardly, she had not the nerve, I had almost said the wit, to escape alone from the toils and snares that encompassed her.  I blamed myself, I became a prey to the bitterest self-reproach for having abandoned her, for allowing myself to give way to temper, and treat her so cruelly.  As the train rattled on, one thought took possession of me.  I must get out and go back instantly, at least at the very first opportunity.  I must retrace my steps and return again to Culoz, where I hoped to be in time to support and strengthen her, please God save her from the consequences of my unkind and ill-considered action.