The whistle of departure sounded from the train, and John, in despair, tore at the passport in an inside pocket. He saw that the officer would never be able to read it in time, and he endeavored to snatch himself from the detaining grasp. But the Austrian hung on firmly.
As he fairly thrust the document in the face of the official he saw the wheels of the coaches moving.
"I'll come on the next train!" he shouted to the air.
The officer looked over the passport deliberately and handed it back. The train was several hundred yards down the track.
"Now, yours," he said to Kempner, and the young man passed it to him.
"August Wilhelm Kempner," said the officer, and then he added, looking the young man squarely in the eye: "I happen to know August William Kempner who lives in Vienna and he bears no resemblance to you. How do you happen to have his passport?"
"That I won't explain to you," said the false Kempner, and suddenly he struck him a stunning blow on the temple with his clenched fist.
The officer, strong though he was, went down unconscious.
"Run! Run! Follow me!" exclaimed the young man. "They'll think you were my comrade and it may mean your death!"
His action had been so violent, and he spoke with such vehemence that John was mentally overborne. Driven by a powerful impulse he followed the flying man.