During the afternoon I went down to the station with Barron, the constant companion of my peradventures, and interviewed the railway authorities. Now there is only one way to deal with a military policeman; it is no good trying to dodge him. He knows that trick too well. The frontal assault is the one road to success. We walked straight up to him.
“Corporal,” I said, “we’re going to Paris.”
“Very good, Sir; you’ve got your movement order made out, I suppose.”
“No, Corporal, I’m afraid I haven’t,” I confessed.
He grunted.
“That makes it a bit awkward, Sir; you see, I have got orders, Sir, to....”
At this juncture a five-franc note changed hands.
“But, Sir, of course it could be managed, I expect, if you’re down at ten minutes to eleven. Well, Sir, I’ll see what I can do.”
That was all right; and feeling ourselves rather dogs, we made our way back to the Stanislas and had a game of billiards. At half-past six we sat down to a long, carefully selected dinner and two bottles of champagne; and as the evening progressed a delightful warmth and languor came over us. A bed with a spring mattress seemed more than ever desirable.
“It won’t be a very comfortable journey,” hazarded my companion. “It will take a good ten hours.”