They ate and felt better; and it was as they were about to leave the dining-car to go back to their places, that Jack nudged Tom and whispered to him:
"Did you hear what he said?"
"Hear what who said?"
"That man just back of you. Did you have a good look at him?"
"I didn't, but I will have," said Tom, and, waiting a moment so as not to cause any suspicion that his act was directed by his chum, Tom turned and looked at the person Jack indicated. He beheld a quietly dressed man, who seemed to be alone and paying attention to no one, eating his lunch.
"Well, what about him?" asked Tom. "I don't see anything remarkable about him, except that he's a slow eater. I admit I bolt my food too much."
"No, it isn't that," said Jack in a low voice. "But don't you think he looks like a German?"
Tom took another casual glance.
"Well, you might find a resemblance if you tried hard," he answered. "But I should be more inclined to call him a Dutchman. And when I say Dutchman I mean a Hollander."
"I understand," remarked Jack. "But I don't agree with you in thinking that he may be from Holland. Of course men of that nationality have a right to go and come as they choose, where they can, but I don't believe this chap is one."