and hurry!" he added. "We really are making
pretty close connection," he went on, "it's 7.05 now. But then there is
only one trunk to check."

"I'm glad that that's yours," Rosina said, thinking of her hand luggage
and his comments thereon.

He whistled blithely.

"Oh, we'll get there all straight," he said hopefully.

They drew up before the Bahnhof at 7.10, and it behooved the man of the
party to be very spry indeed. He got their unlimited baggage on to a
hand-truck, paid the cabman, and hustled the whole caravan inside.

"_Wo fahren Sie hin?_" asked the porter who operated the hand-truck, as
he went leisurely after their haste.

"Zurich," said Jack, "and _wir haben sehr wenig_ time to spare; you want
to look lively." Then he rushed to the ticket gate to send Rosina and
her maid aboard while the trunk was being weighed.

"_Wo fahren Sie hin?_" asked the man at the gate.

"Zurich."

"Train goes at 7.45."

"It doesn't either," said Jack, who understood German fluently, "it goes
at 7.20."

For answer the man pointed to the great sign above his head, which bore
out the truth of his statement in letters six inches high.

"Well, I vow," said Jack blankly, "if that man at Schenker's isn't the
worst fraud I ever ran up against. Say, cousin, we've got over half an
hour to check my trunk in."

She shook her head as if she didn't care.

"I'll go and see to it now," he said, "and then I'll come back here and
try to get on to the train."

He went off, and they waited by the gate while the man stationed there
looked at Ottillie, and her mistress recalled the tone in which a voice
had said, "It is for the first and last time!" and what came next.

When Jack returned they were permitted to pass the gates and go aboard
the cars. The porter loaded the entire length of both racks with their
belongings, and as soon as he was paid Jack hung up his ulster with the
deer-horn buttons, stretched himself at full length upon the longest
seat, and was asleep within five minutes.

Rosina took the window corner opposite him and contemplated his callous
slumber with a burning bitterness.

"And he must see how unhappy I am, too," she said to herself.

Then she leaned her chin upon her hand and fell into a reverie which so
blinded her with tears that when the train did move out of the yards she
beheld a Munich of mist and fog, and a Pasing which was a mere blot
amidst the general blur of her universe. She did not want to go to