"If they stop us, I shall write to the _Times_" cried his brother, by
profession a man of peace, but with a choleric eye that told of an angry
temperament.

"By all means, my dear Silas, when you get the chance. That won't be
just yet, for I tell you we're in a tight place, and may expect a good
deal of worry." With that he took out his cigarette-case, and his
match-box, lighted his cigarette, and calmly watched the smoke rising
with all the coolness of an old campaigner accustomed to encounter and
face the ups and downs of life. "I only hope to goodness they'll run
straight on to Paris," he added in a fervent tone, not unmixed with
apprehension. "No! By jingo, we're slackening speed--."

"Why shouldn't we? It's right the conductor, or chief of the train, or
whatever you call him, should know what has happened."

"Why, man, can't you see? While the train is travelling express, every
one must stay on board it; if it slows, it is possible to leave it."

"Who would want to leave it?"

"Oh, I don't know," said the General, rather testily. "Any way, the
thing's done now."

The train had pulled up in obedience to the signal of alarm given by
some one in the sleeping-car, but by whom it was impossible to say. Not
by the porter, for he seemed greatly surprised as the conductor came up
to him.

"How did you know?" he asked.