The morning dragged slowly. At Szabadka he got down for lunch and was not surprised to see his traveling companion at his elbow, eating with a deliberation which gave Renwick a momentary hope that the train might get off without him. Renwick was already in his carriage and the guard calling when the fellow stalked majestically from the eating-room munching at the remains of his Böhmische Dalken and entered the carriage, still clinging to the cotton umbrella, and quite oblivious of the powdered sugar with which he was liberally besmeared. Secret agent! The man was a joke—a rectangular comedy in monosyllables.
There was no connection for Brod at Szabadka until late in the afternoon and Renwick hoped to make better time by going on to Ujvidek, a large town, somewhat sophisticated, where the buying or hiring of a machine would be a possibility. During the afternoon he took Marishka's letter from his pocket and studied it again, now quite oblivious of the creature who had curiously enough resumed the same seat opposite him. And in his concentration upon the problem of the note the man was for the moment forgotten. It was only when he glanced up quickly and quite unintentionally that he saw the gaze of his neighbor eagerly watching him. It was only a fleeting glance, but in it, it seemed, the whole character of his fellow traveler had changed. His hands still clasped the umbrella, the sugar was still smeared upon his sallow cheeks, but it seemed that his eyes had glowed with a sudden intentness. A second later when Renwick looked at him again, the man was staring dully at the passing cornfields and vineyards and he thought he had been mistaken. He would have liked to know more of this fellow, and was again tempted to try to draw him out but the recollection of his former venture dismayed him. So he relapsed into silence and lying back in his seat, one hand in his pocket, he closed his eyes and feigned slumber, watching the man through his eyelashes. For a long while nothing happened. Then at last as Renwick's breathing became regular the giant's head turned, and his eyes regarded the Englishman stealthily. Renwick did not move. But he saw his companion lean slightly forward while one hand left the umbrella handle, unbuttoned his coat and then moved very slowly behind him. That was enough for Renwick, who started upright and covered the man with his automatic. But the other had merely drawn a large and rather soiled handkerchief from a pocket of his trousers and was in the act of blowing his nose when he looked up and saw the impending blue muzzle of Renwick's weapon.
Then his jaw dropped and his eyes flew wide open.
"Herr Gott!" he stammered in a husky whisper. "Don't shoot!"
Whether it was the pleasure of discovering that the man had at last found his tongue or whether the innocence of his purpose was explained, Renwick found himself much relieved.
"Are you crazy?" the other was saying. "To draw a pistol upon me like that! What do you mean?"
But Renwick still held the pistol pointed in his neighbor's direction.
"I will trouble you to stand," he said quietly, "with your hands up and back toward me."
The man stared at him wide eyed but at last obeyed, lifting his huge back to its full height, and Renwick ran an investigating hand over his hip pockets. They were empty.
"Thanks," he said at last, "you may be seated." He felt a good deal of a fool but he managed an uncomfortable laugh as he returned the automatic to his pocket. "You see," he explained, "I owe you an apology——"