Where for! Where was he for? Where on earth was the train going to? There had been no time to enquire. He could not say that he was going as far as the Rain-Girl went, the man would in all probability have him put out at the next station as a lunatic. Suddenly he had an inspiration.
"All the way," he said casually.
"To Paris, sir?" interrogated the man.
To Paris! Was she going to Paris? What on earth should he do in Paris with not so much as a tooth-brush? It was bad enough to be travelling in a continental train in a top hat and a morning-coat
"Did you say Paris, sir?" enquired the guard.
Beresford nodded. If she got out on the way he could do likewise. It was always possible to terminate a journey at an intermediate station. Suppose she were going to stay with friends at a small French town, or at some station between London and Dover, or Folkestone, whichever way the train went. Sometimes these trains stopped at odd stations, he told himself. What on earth should he do on a country platform in a top hat?
"Did you get your luggage in the van all right, sir?" enquired the guard civilly.
His luggage? Oh, damn it! Why were people so infernally interested in the affairs of others? Why should it be assumed that because a man was going to Paris he required to carry luggage? All that was necessary could be bought there, surely?
