“No; I have no idea what's in them.”
“Old blue-books and newspapers, nothing else; they 're all make-believes,—a farce to keep up the notion that great activity prevails at the Foreign Office, and to fill up that paragraph in the newspapers, 'Despatches were yesterday sent off to the Lord High Commissioner of the Bahamas,' or 'Her Majesty's Minister at Otaheite.' Here we are at the rail now,—that's Susa. Be alive, for I see the smoke, and the steam must be up.”
They were just in time; the train was actually in motion when they got in, and, as the Colonel, who kept up a rapid conversation with the station-master, informed Tony, nothing would have induced them to delay but having seen himself. “They knew me,” said he; “they remembered my coming down here last autumn with the Prince de Carignan and Cavour.” And once more had Tony to thank his stars for having fallen into such companionship.
As they glided along towards Turin, the Colonel told Tony that if he found the “Weazle” gunboat at Genoa, as he expected, waiting for him, he would set him, Tony, and his despatches, down safely at Naples, as he passed on to Malta. “If it 's the 'Growler,'” said he, “I 'll not promise you, because Hurton the commander is not in good-humor with me. I refused to recommend him the other day to the First Lord for promotion—say nothing about this to the fellows at the Legation; indeed, don't mention anything about me, except to Damer—for the dinner, you know.”
“I suppose I ought to go straight to the Legation at once?” said Tony, as they entered Turin; “my orders are to deliver the bags before anything else.”
“Certainly; let us drive there straight,—there's nothing like doing things regularly; I 'm a martinet about all duty;” and so they drove to the Legation, where Tony, throwing one large sack to the porter, shouldered the other himself, and passed in.
“Holloa!” cried the Colonel; “I 'll give you ten minutes, and if you 're not down by that time, I 'll go off and order breakfast at the inn.”
“All right,” said Tony; “this fellow says that Darner is at Naples.”
“I knew that,” muttered the Colonel to himself; and then added aloud, “Be alive and come down as quick as you can,”—he looked at his watch as he spoke; it wanted five minutes to eight,—“at five minutes past eight the train should start for Genoa.”
He seized the small despatch-bag in his hand, and, telling the cabman to drive to the Hotel Feder and wait for him there, he made straight for the railroad. He was just in the nick; and while Tony was impatiently pacing an anteroom of the Legation, the other was already some miles on the way to Genoa.