The weather changed again for the worse, and as we approached the station it began to snow. I took tickets to a junction not far off. During the twenty minutes until the train was due we intended to wait on the platform.
“Why don’t you wait in the waiting-room? It’s beastly on the platform,” said the ticket-collector.
“Might as well,” I said indifferently, and turned back.
We took our seats and ordered coffee. At the counter opposite us stood a young lieutenant in the long green, peace frock-coat of a rifleman. We saw the ticket-collector come in and address him, whereupon the lieutenant walked straight up to us.
“Where do you come from?”
“We walked in from Klein Recken this morning,” I answered.
“Show me your papers!”
I smiled and addressed Wallace in English: “Game’s up, old man!” He nodded glumly. The lieutenant stared. Then I explained.
The officer did not seem very much surprised, and the miraculous way in which an armed soldier appeared at his elbow showed that he had been expecting a dénouement.