“You sneered at my word of honor,” I said, with all the spite of a coward; “now you don’t get it.”
He no longer wanted it, but all he said was: “Don’t take unnecessary offence; you’re smart enough to know when you’re well off.”
I dozed towards sunset, waking when the Countess stepped back into the carriage and seated herself by 130 my side. Then, after a little, I slept again. And it was nearly dark when I was awakened by the startling whistle of a locomotive. The carriage appeared to be moving slowly between tall rows of poplars and telegraph-poles; a battery of artillery was clanking along just ahead. In the dark southern sky a luminous haze hung.
“The lights of Strasbourg,” whispered the Countess, as I sat up, rubbing my hot eyes.
I looked for Buckhurst; his place was empty.
“Mr. Buckhurst left us at the railroad crossing,” she said.
“Left us!”
“Yes! He boarded a train loaded with wounded.... He had business to transact in Colmar before he presented himself to the authorities in Paris.... And we are to go by way of Avricourt.”
So Buckhurst had already begun to execute his programme. But the abrupt, infernal precision of the man jarred me unpleasantly.