"The frontier," he said. "Descend if you please for the customs, and kindly have your papers ready."
The girl's blue eyes were sleepy and humorous as she rested her hand on his arm to rise.
"Are we ever to have a good night's sleep again?" she murmured as he aided her to descend in the lantern-lit darkness.
She said nothing. A soldier picked up their luggage and carried it across the platform where another train stood waiting.
And all at once Guild realized that the soldiers around the station and custom-house were not Belgians but Germans. He had forgotten that, and it gave him a distinct shock.
As he and Karen, following the soldier, entered the long room in the custom-house, an officer all in sea-grey from the shrouded spike on his helmet to his ankles came forward and saluted; and Guild coolly lifted his cap.
"Have I by chance the honour of addressing Herr Guild?" asked the officer.
"And--gnädiges Fräulein?"--at salute and very rigid.
"The gracious young lady has credentials?--a ring, perhaps?"
Karen drew off her glove, slipped the ring from her finger. A soldier held up a lantern; the lieutenant adjusted a single eye-glass, scrutinized the ring, returned it with a tight-waisted bow.
"Papers in order!" he said, turning to the customs officials. "Pass that luggage without inspection!"
He was very polite. He escorted them to the Belgian train, found an empty compartment for them, thanked them with empressement, and retired into the darkness which had hatched him.
As the train started Karen said in a low voice: "Would you care to call that officer a barbarian, Kervyn?"
"You haven't seen Louvain. But probably that officer has--through his monocle."
She sighed. "Are we to--differ again? I am _so_ sleepy."
This time he was entirely awake and responsible for his actions. So was she. But she was really very tired, she remembered, when conscience began to make her uncomfortable and call her to account.
But she was too weary to argue the point; her cheek rested unstirring against his shoulder; once or twice her eyes opened vaguely, and her hand crept toward the orchids at her breast. But they had not been crushed. Her white lids closed again. It was unfortunate that she felt no desire to sleep. Her conscience continued to meddle at intervals, too.