"I want to catch the train; look alive, or----"
The captain touched the pocket where the revolver was.
Bertie doubtfully advanced to the booking office, gazing behind him as he went to make quite sure that the captain had meant what he said. There was an old lady taking tickets, so he waited his turn.
"Two first-class tickets for Constantinople."
"Comment?"
He stared at the booking-clerk, and the booking-clerk stared at him, each in complete ignorance of what the other meant.
"Do you mean to say you can't speak French?"
The captain came to the rescue, speaking so gently that his words were only audible to Bertie's ears.
"No--o."
"Do you mean to say you don't know enough to be able to ask for two first-class tickets for Constantinople?"