Aunt Palmyra installed herself in a second-class compartment: "For ladies only."
The train rolled out of the station.
An inspector was examining the tickets at the stopping-place at Château-Thierry.
"Excuse me, sir," said he, waking a passenger who had fallen fast asleep—a stout man, with a smooth face and scanty hair—"Excuse me, Monsieur, but you are in a 'For ladies only!'"
The man leapt up and rubbed his eyes; instinctively, with the gesture of a short-sighted man, he took from his waistcoat pocket a large pair of spectacles in gold frames, and stared at the inspector.
"I am sorry! It's a mistake! I will change into another compartment!"
The stranger passed along the connecting corridor, carrying a small bundle of clothes wrapped in a shawl of many colours!... An hour later, the train from Châlons arrived at Paris, ten minutes behind time. Directly he stood on the platform the traveller looked at his watch.
"Twenty-five past eleven! I can do it!"
He jumped into a taxi, giving his orders: