Turk and his master were the only passengers in the compartment.  The watchful eyes of the former had seen several persons, men and women, pass through the aisle into which the section opened.  One woman paused at the entrance as if about 10 enter.  She was fair to look upon and Turk gallantly moved, presenting a roomy end of his seat to her.  She passed on, however, and the little ex-burglar glanced sharply at his master as if to accuse him of frightening the fair one away.  But Quentin was lying back, half-asleep, and there was nothing repellent about the untroubled expression on his face.

Before reaching Le Cateau the same lady passed the entrance and again glanced inside.  Turk was now asleep, but his master was staring dreamily toward the aperture leading to the aisle.  He saw the woman’s face for an instant, and it gradually dawned upon him that there was something familiar about its beauty.  Where had he seen her before?  Like the curious American he was, he arose a few minutes later and deliberately walked into the aisle.  He passed two compartments before he saw the young woman.  She was alone and was leaning back, her eyes closed.  Quentin observed that she was young and beautiful and possessed the marks of fashion and refinement.  As he stood for a moment looking upon the face of the dozing French woman, more certain than ever that he had seen her recently, she opened her eyes with an affrighted start.

He instantly and in some embarrassment turned to escape the eyes which had caught him in a rare bit of impertinence, but was surprised to hear her call softly:^

“Monsieur!”

“Mademoiselle,” he replied, pausing, “can I be of service to you?”

“I must speak with you, M. Quentin.  Come inside.  I shall detain you but a moment, and it is so very important that you should hear me.”  She was now sitting upright, visibly excited and confused, but very much in earnest.

“You know my name,” he said, entering and dropping to the seat beside her.  “Where have we met?  Your face is familiar, but I am ashamed to admit—­”

“We have no time to talk of that.  You have never met me, and would not know who I am if I told you.  Had it not been for that horrid little man of yours I should have boldly addressed you sooner.  I must leave the train at Le Cateau, for I cannot go on to Quevy or Mons. It would not be wise for me to leave France at this time.  You do not know me, but I wish to befriend you.”

“Befriend me?  I am sure one could not ask for a more charming friend,” said he, smiling gallantly, but now evincing a shade of interest.

“No flattery, Monsieur!  It is purely a personal matter with me; this is by no means a pleasure trip.  I am running a great risk, but it is for my own sake as much as for yours, so do not thank me.  I came from Paris on this train because I could not speak to you at the Gare du Nord.  You were watched too closely.”