After a few minutes the lights switched on again and the car began to move forward.

Behind it appeared the approaching lights of a second machine.
"That first car doesn't want to be seen," thought Paul.

At each end of the bridge was an arc lamp.

As the first car passed under the light, he caught a glimpse of it--a grey touring car, evidently capable of speed.
Paul didn't think of this again until he was near the place where he had decided to pass the night.

At the corner of the street ahead of him a grey car stopped and three men got out--his blonde companion of the train among them, conspicuous both on account of his height and his beard.
"That's the same car," thought Paul, watching it roll away; and frowning as he thought of his Russian acquaintance of the morning he uneasily added, "I wonder what they were doing on that bridge....".