"Have you a passport?"
"Yes—I was foolish enough to get one before I left home. All my friends laughed at me and told me I was wasting a dollar!"
"I should like to see it."
Stewart put his hand into an inner pocket, drew out the crackling parchment and passed it over. The other took it, unfolded it, glanced at the red seal and at the date, then read the very vague description of its owner, and finally drew out a notebook.
"Pease sign your name here," he said, and indicated a blank page.
Stewart wrote his name, and the officer compared it with the signature at the bottom of the passport. Then he nodded, folded it up, and handed it back across the table.
"It is quite regular," he said. "For what time have you been in Germany?"
"About two weeks. I attended the surgical congress at Vienna."
"You are a surgeon by profession?"
"Yes."