“Good night, Monsieur Bombarnac.”
I am alone.
The idea occurs to me to walk to the rear of the train, and I stop for an instant on the gangway in front of the treasure van.
The passengers, with the exception of the Chinese guard, are all sleeping their last sleep—their last, be it understood, on the Grand Transasiatic.
Returning to the front of the train, I approach Popof’s box, and find him sound asleep.
I then open the door of the van, shut it behind me, and signal my presence to Kinko.
The panel is lowered, the little lamp is lighted. In exchange for the cakes and wine I receive the brave fellow’s thanks, and we drink to the health of Zinca Klork, whose acquaintance I am to make on the morrow.
It is ten minutes to one. In twelve minutes, so Popof says, we shall pass the junction with the Nanking branch. This branch is only completed for five or six kilometres, and leads to the viaduct over the Tjon valley. This viaduct is a great work—I have the details from Pan-Chao—and the engineers have as yet only got in the piers, which rise for a hundred feet above the ground.
As I know we are to halt at Fuen-Choo, I shake hands with Kinko, and rise to take my leave.
At this moment I seem to hear some one on the platform in the rear of the van.