"Dorward," he said, "upon my honor, I assure you that what I have told you is the truth. I cannot seem to make you realize the seriousness of your position. When you left the Palace with that paper in your pocket, you were, to all intents and purposes, a doomed man. Your passport and your American citizenship count for absolutely nothing. I have come in to warn you that if you have any last messages to leave, you had better give them to me now.""This is a pretty good bluff you're putting up!" Dorward exclaimed contemptuously. "The long and short of it is, I suppose, that you want me to break the seal of this document and let you read it."Bellamy shook his head.
"It is too late for that, Dorward," he said. "If the seal were broken, they'd very soon guess where I came in, and it wouldn't help the work I have in hand for me to be picked up with a bullet in my forehead on the railway track."Dorward frowned uneasily.
"What are you here for, anyway, then?" he asked.
"Well, frankly, not to argue with you," Bellamy answered. "As a matter of fact, you are of no use to me any longer. I am sorry, old man. You can't say that I didn't give you good advice. I am bound to play for my own hand, though, in this matter, and if Iget any benefit at all out of my journey, it will be after some regrettable accident has happened to you.""Say, ring the bell for drinks and chuck this!" Dorward exclaimed.
"I've had about enough of it. I am not denying anything you say, but if these fellows really are on board, they'll think twice before they meddle with me.""On the contrary," Bellamy assured him, "they will not take the trouble to think at all. Their minds are perfectly made up as to what they are going to do. However, that's finished. I have nothing more to say.
Dorward gazed for a minute or two fixedly out of the window.
"Look here, Bellamy," he said, turning abruptly round, "supposing I change my mind, supposing I open this precious document and let you read it over with me?"Bellamy rose hastily to his feet.
"You must not think of it!" he exclaimed. "You would simply write my death-warrant. Don't allude to that matter again. Ihave risked enough in coming in here to sit with you.""Then, for Heaven's sake, don't stop any longer!" Dorward said irritably. "You get on my nerves with all this foolish talk. In an hour's time I am going to bolt my door and go to sleep. We'll breakfast together in the morning, if you like."Bellamy said nothing. The steward had brought them the whiskies and sodas which Dorward had ordered. Bellamy raised his tumbler to his lips and set it down again.
"Forgive me," he said, "I do not think that I am thirsty."Dorward drank his off at a gulp. Almost immediately he closed his eyes. Bellamy, with a little shrug of the shoulders, left him alone. As he passed along to his own coupe, he met Louise in the corridor.
"You have seen Von Behrling?" he whispered. She nodded.
"He is in that coupe, number 7, alone," she said. "I invited him to come in with me but he seemed embarrassed. It is his companions who watch him all the time. He has promised to talk with me later."In the middle of the night, Louise opened her eyes to find Bellamy bending over her.
"Louise," he whispered, "it is Von Behrling who will take possession of the packet. They have been discussing whether it will not be safer to go on to London instead of doubling back. See Von Behrling again. Do all you can to persuade him to come to London, - all you can, Louise, remember.""So!" she whispered. "I shall put on my dressing-gown and sit in the corridor. It is hot here."Bellamy glided out, closing the door softly behind him. The train was rushing on now through the blackness of an unusually dark night.
For some time he sat in his own compartment, listening. The voices whose muttered conversation he had overheard were silent now, but once he fancied that he heard shuffling footsteps and a little cry.
In his heart he knew well that before morning Dorward would have disappeared. The man within him was hard to subdue. He longed to make his way to Dorward's side, to interfere in this terribly unequal struggle, yet he made no movement. Dorward was a man and a friend, but what was a life more or less? It was to a greater cause that he was pledged. Towards three o'clock he lay down on his bed and slept. . . .
The train attendant brought him his coffee soon after daylight. The man's hands were trembling.
"Where are we?" Bellamy asked sleepily.
"Near Munich, Monsieur," the man answered. "Monsieur noticed, perhaps, that we stopped for some time in the night?"Bellamy shook his head.
"I sleep soundly," he said. "I heard nothing.""There has been an accident," the man declared. "An American gentleman who got in at Vienna was drinking whiskey all night and became very drunk. In a tunnel he threw himself out upon the line."Bellamy shuddered a little. He had been prepared, but none the less it was an awful thing, this.
"You are sure that he is dead?" he asked.
The man was very sure indeed.
"There is a doctor from Vienna upon the train, sir," he said. "He examined him at once, but death must have been instantaneous."Bellamy drew a long breath and commenced to put on his clothes.
The next move was for him.