the man's wake. Coming up sufficiently close behind him, he trod heavily on the man's heels; and Stephen Weald turned with an oath.
'What the——'
The exclamation died suddenly, and Weald's face went grey as he recognized the offender.
Simon's lips twitched into a little smile of sprightly merriment.
'So we're all going to Birmingham together!'
Then, with a surprising abruptness, he turned away into the nearest carriage, where he had already perceived a vacant seat, and composed himself to the enjoyment of a cigarette.
Weald passed on.
A little farther down the corridor was the compartment in which he and the girl had found places. She looked up as he showed in the doorway, and he gave her an imperceptible signal. She came out to join him in the corridor.
'What is it?'
'Let's go to the dining car,' said Weald. 'We shan't be overheard there.'
He led the way, and no more was said until they were securely ensconced and tea had been ordered.
'Well, what is it, Weald?'
'The Saint's on the train! I've just seen him.'
She stopped in the act of fitting a cigarette into a holder.
'The Saint? You're dreaming.'
He shook his head. The hand with which he offered her a match was shaking.
'I tell you I saw him. He spoke to me. He's in a compartment three divisions back from ours. I don't know how he got away, but he's done it.'
The girl's eyes narrowed.
'It's that man Dyson. Heavens, Templar's clever! You were listening when he warned me about Dyson, weren't you? And we took it just the way the Saint meant us to take it. Dyson's done the double-cross.'
'And Pinky——?'
'Pinky's a back number.'
The girl admitted the fact grimly. She was calm about it.
'Why do you think the Saint is in this, Jill?'
'Who knows why the Saint does anything? You've read the stories in the newspapers—he was pardoned, and now he seems to be working right in with the police. ... But you're right. This isn't like any ordinary racket of the Saint's.'
'What are we going to do?' asked Weald tremblingly.
'I'll tell you in a minute,' she said. 'Keep quiet, and don't bother me.'
She drew at her cigarette, looking out of the window at the darkening scenery. It was some time before she looked at Weald again.
Then she said:
'We go on, of course!'
