Outwardly ignoring the sub's presence Sylvester swaggered into the ticket-office and ordered the woman in charge to issue a pass for an officer and three men to Salzburg.
"Do not answer any questions from any one except with my permission," cautioned the supposititious von Stopelfeld, addressing the Hungarian soldiers.
"Your will is our command, Excellency," replied one of the men in halting German.
Upon the arrival of the train the bogus baron boarded a first-class carriage, while Farrar and his escort were placed in a fourth-class compartment. The Moke had no more intention of going even as far as Salzburg than he had of making for the North Pole. He knew that the escort had no notion of their present destination, and holding the railway pass he could easily browbeat the train officials. He also knew that by not changing at a certain junction he would be carried in the opposite direction, through Klagenfurt and Laibach to Trieste. His plan was to find a pretext for dismissing the two soldiers, obtain a suitable disguise for his chum, and for the pair to slip across the Italian frontier. In any case he had good reasons for not going as far as Trieste.
The journey was a tedious one. A constant stream of troop trains bound for the Piave front had the effect of holding up the ordinary traffic almost hourly, and it was dusk before the fugitives reached a little out-of-the-way village in Carniola, and about fifty miles from the head of the Adriatic.
Under the pretext that there was no wagon à lit attached to the train, and roundly abusing the Austrian railway authorities for their neglect to provide for the comfort of German officers, the Moke ordered the prisoner and escort out of the carriage, redoubling his torrent of invective when he learnt that the village was two miles from the station.
"You will remain here with your prisoner," he ordered, pointing to an isolated farmhouse. "There will be accommodation for you in a stable, and with a strong lock on the door the prisoner will be safe."
"Very good, Excellency," replied the senior soldier.
With the last of the fading daylight glinting dully upon the fixed bayonets the men marched their prisoner towards the house. As they approached there was the piercing shriek of a woman's voice, while almost at the same moment the figure of a man, bending low, darted from the side of the building and fled across the adjoining fields.
"Now what's the trouble?" soliloquised the Moke.