Another train leaving Munich. He could see its lights and hear the rattle of its wheels as it crossed the switches. He had tried to figure the passage of the minutes since he had left the tobacconist's and was sure that the time of departure of the train he wanted had long since passed. This must be it then. He pulled his cap down firmly over his ears and peered out. The exhaust of the locomotive warned him that this was an express, slowly gathering speed, but it was do or die now. A light along the rails--Rowland stepped back in the shadows, an arm over his eyes to protect them from the glare. Then a deafening clank and roar as the engine passed, ever gathering speed. Rowland waited until one car passed--two--then darted out, running furiously and sprang for the step as it passed. A wrench at his arm-pit, a moment of doubt as he clutched at the rail, and then, he lay along the foot board of the old fashioned car, for the moment quite safe. There was no guard in sight but he could not tell how soon one would appear--probably at Pasing, less than five minutes away, and so clutching at the nearest guard rail, he crouched and moved to the rear end of the coach. There was one dark compartment but he did not dare raise his head above the sill to look in, nor had he any intention of entering it. Indeed he had already made his plan, and moving with great caution found an iron ladder between the cars and climbed quickly to the top of the coach, along which he crawled upon hands and knees and finally lay flat with arms and legs extended, bruised and breathless but quite happy. He grinned to himself at the ease with which the thing had been accomplished, and thought of the mess he would have made of himself if he had tried to take liberties of this kind with the Empire State Express or the Manhattan Limited.
At Pasing he heard the call of the guard which reassured him that he had made no mistake. This was the Lindau train, all right, and the Bodensee but eight or ten hours away. If they did not see him--if no one looked up.... He crawled over to the side away from the lights of the platform. The travelers were all intent upon getting into their places and the guards in putting them there, so that the sprawling figure in the gloom above them only a few feet away escaped notice. But Rowland saw and heard. There was a delay of a few moments while the officials waited for a tall man who had gotten down from a machine alongside the platform. Rowland heard his rasping voice, saw the guard salute and take his valise; heard the obsequious "Excellency" of the station agent and then the door of a compartment just below him crashed to and the train moved off into the darkness. There was no mistaking Von Stromberg, and his presence was reasonable enough,--even his departure from Pasing instead of from the Haupt Bahnhof where he might have been recognized by those who could balk his plans. Rowland wondered at his own stupidity in not realizing that the Herr General would go to Lindau rather than entrust so important an affair to a subordinate. And if to Lindau why not on the only train which left for that place tonight? And here he was, the old villain, in the compartment Rowland might have entered, not ten feet from where Rowland lay. Zoya Rochal had said of Rowland that he was never so happy as when he was shooting at somebody and at this moment Rowland confessed to a strong desire to justify the statement. He crawled along the top of the carriage until he reached the ventilator which let into the compartment Von Stromberg had entered, but of course could see nothing. There was an odor of a good cigar, the rattle of a newspaper and then silence. Rowland had seen no one but von Stromberg enter the compartment and since there was no sound of other voices below him Rowland knew that the Herr General was alone.
While Rowland was planning how best to take advantage of this extraordinary situation, the train came to a stop again and he distinctly heard Von Stromberg's voice, the caressing voice that Rowland remembered, giving some orders to the guard.
"In the second compartment of the last car," he said suavely, "you will find a very beautiful lady. You will recognize her by her hair which is as black as a raven's wing. Present my compliments and say that General von Stromberg will be honored if she will share the journey with him."
"Zu befehl, Excellenz," muttered the man and departed toward the rear of the train, running.
Even now, Rowland did not realize just what the message meant and until the guard returned accompanied by a slender woman in dark clothes with a small hat set rakishly upon her head, Rowland didn't know that the beautiful lady with the dark hair was Zoya Rochal. She stood for a moment in the glow of the open door, it seemed looking up directly at the shadow where Rowland was as their glances met. Then he heard Von Stromberg's voice welcoming her.
"Ach, Madame. This is indeed a pleasure. And I had feared that I should be forced to pass this tedious journey with no one but myself for company ... unless an evil conscience.... I pray you to enter and make yourself quite at home. The guard will bring your luggage.... So. Of course I had forgotten that you left Munich so suddenly," and then as she hesitated, his voice more insistent, "Come, Madame, if you please."
Rowland heard her climb the steps, heard the door shut behind her and then the shaken tones of her voice.
"Herr General--how did you know----?"
"Madame, do not pry behind my scenes. It spoils the effect. I know everything. It's my trade. The thing was so much more simple since there is but one train to Lindau. I was notified at Pasing the moment you entered your compartment. You do not object to the smell of tobacco? So. Perhaps you will even condescend to smoke a cigarette with me...."