Guild's surprised eyes fell on the packet. It contained two steamer tickets strapped together by a rubber band.
Pushing through the throng where policemen, wharf officials and soldiers in khaki were as numerous as civilians, Guild finally signalled a porter to take the luggage aboard. Karen retained her satchel. A brief scrutiny of his tickets detained them for a moment, then the porter led them up the gang-plank and aboard and a steward directed them to their stateroom. At the same moment a uniformed official stepped up to Guild.
"Sorry to trouble you, sir," he said politely, "but may I have your name?"
The official glanced over the steamer list. "You have papers of identification, Mr. Guild?"
Guild handed him his forged passports. The official took them, glanced at Karen, at the luggage which the porter bore.
"Where do you go from Amsterdam, Mr. Guild?"
"Partly in the Duchy, partly in Belgium."
"Mrs. and Miss Courland of New York and a Mr. Darrel."
The official began to unfold the passports, while he looked sideways at the luggage. Holding the passports partly open in one hand he pointed to Karen's satchel with the other.
"Please open that," he said, and began to examine the passports. A deadly pallour came over the girl's face; she did not stir. Guild turned to glance at her and was stricken dumb. But she found her speech. "Dear," she said, with white lips, "would you mind stepping ashore and getting me something at a chemist's?" And under her breath, pressing close to him: "Go, for God's sake. I am afraid I shall be arrested." A terrible fear struck through him.
"The satchel!" he motioned with his lips.
"I'll be back in a moment, Karen," he said, coolly took the satchel from the porter, turned with it toward the gang-plank.
The official raised his eyes from the passport he was scanning.
"I'll be back directly," returned Guild, continuing on his way.
"Be kind enough to leave that satchel and remain here until I have finished," said the official coldly. And to Karen: "Mrs. Guild, will you kindly open that bag?"
"Certainly. I have the key somewhere"--searching in her reticule. And as she searched she lifted her eyes to Guild. Her face was dead white.
"Dearest," she said in a steady voice, "will you go to the chemist's while I am opening my bag. I _must_ have something for this headache."