o the R.T.O. at such a station, and the time
and the station spelt troop-train unmistakably. Now, the troop-train
set out on its devious journey an hour later than the Paris express from
the same station, and the hour of the Paris express corresponded with the
time that all decent officers go to dinner. Peter therefore removed the
first paper, folded it up thoughtfully, and put it in his pocket. He then
reported to the R.T.O. a quarter of an hour before the Paris train
started, and found, as he expected, a N.C.O. in sole charge. The man took
his paper and read it. He turned it over; there was no indication of
route anywhere. "Which train are you going by, sir?" he asked.

"Paris mail," said Peter coolly. "Will you please put my stuff in a
first?"

"Certainly, sir," said the man, endorsed the order to that effect, and
shouldered a suit-case. Peter followed him. He was given a first to
himself, and the Deputy R.T.O. saw the French inspector and showed him
the paper. Peter strolled off and collected a bottle of wine, some
sandwiches, and some newspapers; then he made himself comfortable.
The train left punctually. Peter lay back in his corner and watched the
country slip by contentedly. He had grown up, had this young man.

He arrived in Paris with the dawn of Sunday morning, and looked out
cautiously. There was no English official visible. However, his papers
were entirely correct, and he climbed up the stairs and wandered along a
corridor in which hands and letters from time to time indicated the lair
of the R.T.O. Arriving, he found another officer waiting, but no R.T.O.
The other was "bored stiff," he said; he had sat there an hour, but had
seen no sign of the Transport Officer. Peter smiled, and replied that he
had no intention whatever of waiting; he only wanted to know the times of
the Boulogne trains. These he discovered by the aid of a railway guide on
the table, and selected the midnight train, which would land him in
Boulogne in time for the first leave-boat, if the train were punctual and
the leave-boat not too early. In any case, he could take the second,
which would only mean Victoria a few hours later that same day. And these
details settled, he left his luggage in a corner and strolled off into
the city.

A big city, seen for the first time by oneself alone when one does not
know a soul in it, may be intensely boring or intensely interesting. It
depends on oneself. Peter was in the mood to be interested.