Jack rattled her down the stairs—those sob-provoking stairs—at a tremendous rate, and when they went out of the porte their eyes were greeted by a cab that looked like a furniture van, so overloaded was its capacity.
“George, but it’s full!” Jack cried in dismay. “Well, there’s no time to get another; we must just pile in some way and let it go at that.”
They piled in some way and it went at that.
“The train leaves at 7.20,” Jack remarked as they passed the post-office clock, “we shall just make it easy.”
Rosina made no answer, and no one spoke again until they reached the Karl Platz and the cabman slowed up and looked around inquiringly; for some trains are reached from the front and some from the sides of the main station at Munich, and the cabs suit their routes to the circumstances from the Karl Platz on.
“Zurich!” Jack called out, “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.