“I will recall myself to your memory,” the other continued, blandly. “My name is Domiloff!”
“Domiloff, of course,” Brand echoed. “You are still——”
“Still the representative of Russia to the State of Theos. It is true.”
“And where am I?” Brand asked, looking around the bare, lofty room with some surprise; “and what am I here for?”
“You are in the House of Customs at Gallona. I met the train at the frontier to secure the honour of a little conversation with you before you proceeded to the capital. I found you exceedingly unwell, and took the liberty of bringing you here that you might have the opportunity of resting a little before completing your journey.”
Brand rose slowly to his feet. He was still giddy, but rapidly recovering himself. His last distinct recollection was the coffee which he and the priest had ordered in their coupé. There was a peculiar taste—a swimming in his head—afterwards blank unconsciousness.
“You have been most considerate, I am sure,” he said, slowly. “I am glad to have your explanation, otherwise my presence here, under the circumstances, might have suggested unpleasant things to me.”
Domiloff’s lips parted in an inscrutable smile. He remained silent.
“I might have remembered,” Brand continued, “that I was travelling with two friends. What has become of them?”