which runs the Grand Transasiatic; nothing of the valley of Lou-Ngan,
where we stopped at eleven o'clock; nothing of the two hundred and
thirty kilometres which we accomplished amid the wreaths of a sort of
yellow steam, worthy of a yellow country, until we stopped about ten
o'clock at night at Tai-Youan.

Ah! the disagreeable day.

Luckily the fog rose early in the evening. Now it is night--and a very
dark night, too.

I go to the refreshment bar and buy a few cakes and a bottle of wine.
My intention is to pay a last visit to Kinko. We will drink to his
health, to his approaching marriage with the fair Roumanian. He has
traveled by fraud, I know, and if the Grand Transasiatic only knew! But
the Grand Transasiatic will not know.

During the stoppage Faruskiar and Ghangir are walking on the platform
and looking at the train. But it is not the van at the rear that is
attracting their attention, but the van in front, and they seem to be
much interested in it.

Are they suspicious of Kinko? No! the hypothesis is unlikely. The
driver and stoker seem to be the object of their very particular
attention. They are two brave Chinamen who have just come on duty, and
perhaps Faruskiar is not sorry to see men in whom he can trust, with
this imperial treasure and a hundred passengers behind them!

The hour for departure strikes, and at midnight the engine begins to
move, emitting two or three loud whistles.

As I have said, the night is very dark, without moon, without stars.
Long clouds are creeping across the lower zones of the atmosphere. It
will be easy for me to enter the van without being noticed. And I have
not been too liberal in my visits to Kinko during these twelve days on
the road.

At this moment Popof says to me:

"Are you not going to sleep to-night, Monsieur Bombarnac?"

"I am in no hurry," I reply; "after this foggy day, spent inside the
car, I am glad of a breath of fresh air. Where does the train stop
next?"

"At Fuen-Choo, when it has passed the junction with the Nanking line."

"Good night, Popof."

"Good night, Monsieur Bombarnac."

I am alone.

The idea occurs to me to walk to the rear of the train, and I stop for
an instant on the gangway in front of the treasure van.

The passengers, with the exception of the Chinese guard, are all
sleeping their last sleep--their last, be it understood, on the Grand
Transasiatic.

Returning to the front of the train, I approach Popof's box, and find