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 rant, wherein General Sadgrove had promised him safety.

His reflections were cut short by the slowing down of the train for the stoppage at Kentish Town, and the Duke’s sensations at that moment hardly presaged a comfortable journey for him, brief though it would be. The compartment was labeled “reserved,” it was true, and the guard had been tipped to see that the legend was respected, but that stood for little when people of the Ziegler type were on the move, and he looked forward with dread to the future stoppages if his heart was to thump like this.

Which is a study in the quality of fear, for Beaumanoir was of the kind that leads cavalry charges to visible and certain death with gay recklessness.

The present trouble passed, however, for the guard hovered round the carriage and gave no chance to invaders, who in any case would have had some difficulty in effecting an entrance, as the door was locked. The train sped on again, out into the country now, through the balmy summer night, and Beaumanoir breathed more freely. One of the dreaded stoppages was notched off the list.