young Hungarian officer's
cursing as he stumbled over the Englishman's feet. A glance at his watch
showed Renwick that he had slept four hours. It was dawn. Beside him at
the further end of the seat the old man with the white beard still
slept. Renwick glanced out of the window and found that the station was
Vacz. They were twenty or thirty miles from the Hungarian capital. The
morning was cool, and Renwick stepped down from the open door upon the
platform and stretched his limbs, sniffing the air eagerly. He felt
renewed, invigorated, and the ache at his head was gone. He had made no
plans beyond the very necessary one of getting money at the British
Consulate and taking the first train south. The difficulties in making
proper connections, the probability that somewhere he must desert the
railroad and beg, buy, or steal a motor car, and the ever present danger
of a shot from a German agent confronted him, but in his early morning
humor nothing seemed impossible. He would get through in some way and
find a means of reaching Marishka! And if Marishka were already spirited
away? He would find her and the green limousine chap with whom he would
have a reckoning.

Impatient of the delay of the train, he took out his cigarette case and
was about to smoke, when the warning of the guard was shouted, and he
got into his carriage, followed by another traveler who clambered in at
the last moment and sank into the seat opposite. As the train moved, the
two men scanned each other in the light of the growing dawn which now
vied with the flickering light of the overhead lamp in their
compartment. The stranger was a very tall man in dark clothes, who gave
an instant impression of long rectangularity. He had a long nose, a long
upper lip which hung over a thin slit of a mouth which resembled a
buttonhole slightly frayed by wear. His chin was long and square and,
like his upper lip, blue, as though a stiff black beard were in constant
battle with a razor. His eyes were large and regarded Renwick with a
mild melancholy as he bowed the Englishman a good morning. Renwick
nodded curtly. He had planned another nap and hardly relished sitting
awake and staring at the sepulchral visitor. Where last night's
weariness had sealed his eyes to the ever-present sense of danger,
morning brought counsel of caution and alertness. The leanness of the
huge intruder was of the kind that suggested endurance rather than
malnutrition, a person who for all h