The train was pulling out of the station when an excited individual, quite out of breath, rushed to our compartment, opened the door, but, before entering, turned and said–repeating the phrase several times in English–“Thank you,” to a person he left behind, at the same time waving his hand in farewell.
Entering the compartment, the newcomer took the vacant seat, and as I had heard him speaking English, I asked him, “Are you English, sir?”
“No,” he replied, “I am an American.”
“Well,” I continued in English, “if you are an American we belong to the same continent; I am a Canadian.”
He did not appear to relish my overtures, but turned to admire the landscape from the window.
“May I inquire where you are going?” I ventured to ask after a short interval of silence.
“To Russia,” he answered.
“But why?” I said. “My dear man, you will never reach Russia; Germany is at war with Belgium, and I don’t see how you can get through to Russia.”
“Oh,” he said, “I shall go by way of Holland.”
His abruptness and reserve convinced me that he had no desire to continue the conversation. I began to entertain suspicions of the stranger, and my wife, who occupied the seat opposite to us, indicated by a significant glance that she, too, thought there was something extraordinary in the demeanor of our travelling companion.