When the train started once more, and dinner was announced by a violent ringing of bells, Katherine went along to it much relieved in mind. Her vis-à-vis tonight was of an entirely different kind⁠—a small man, distinctly foreign in appearance, with a rigidly waxed moustache and an egg-shaped head which he carried rather on one side. Katherine had taken in a book to dinner with her. She found the little man’s eyes fixed upon it with a kind of twinkling amusement.

“I see, Madame, that you have a roman policier . You are fond of such things?”

“They amuse me,” Katherine admitted.

The little man nodded with the air of complete understanding.

“They have a good sale always, so I am told. Now why is that, eh, Mademoiselle? I ask of you as a student of human nature⁠—why should that be?”

Katherine felt more and more amused.