“What a stupid question,” I thought. “He must know when the train starts.”
However, I told him:—“ten-thirty.” I could speak single words in Russian clearly enough, and I could understand much of simple conversation, but I could not put many sentences together with any intelligence.
“Where are you going?” next asked my officer companion.
“To Moscow,” I replied.
There was something in the man’s glance that made me very uncomfortable, so I drew from my grip a book and began to read. I was conscious for some time of his eyes scrutinizing me from head to foot. I tried not to let him know I knew he was watching me. I fought down my fears and read on.
In half an hour the officer opened his grip and took out a small pneumatic traveling-pillow. I saw the full contents of the bag. There was one Russian blouse and the pillow, nothing more. The grip itself was a large one—twice the size of my dress-suit case—and the fact that he would use so huge a valise to carry a pillow that would go into a pocket, and a blouse that would fold into an insignificant parcel, confirmed my fears that the man had been sent hurriedly on his journey, and that quite evidently he was shadowing me.
There was nothing to do, however, but to keep on and to pretend entire indifference. After a time I grew drowsy and folded my coat under my head for a pillow, wrapped my rug about me, and lay down. The last thing I did was to examine the compartment-door to see that it was securely fastened. The train was running over a smooth roadbed and the gentle motion to and fro soothed my nerves and in a little while I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The striking of a match awoke me suddenly. I half opened my eyes and saw my gendarme officer looking at his watch. It was still dark, and I drowsily wondered what the time was myself. I was too sleepy to look at my own watch. I guessed the hour at about four o’clock, closed my eyes, and was just sinking into sleep again when I felt a hand reach across my body and strike the compartment wall. At the same instant the hoarse voice of the gendarme officer cried out:
“Sir! Sir! Wake up!”
I opened my eyes wide to see the man leaning over me, his arm across my body, and his face directly over mine, so close that I could feel his foul breath with each word he spoke.