Maurice and Wylie were much puzzled by the girls’ obstinate absorption in what appeared a singularly erratic game, and their firm refusal to walk about on the platform, but they made themselves useful by first going to the bookstall to see what Tauchnitz volumes were in stock, then making an expedition to buy one for Eirene, a second to get one for Zoe, and a third to change Eirene’s, which she discovered she had read before. Zoe was almost as much excited as Eirene by the time this point was reached. It was all very well to want to keep Maurice near at hand, but if Eirene was arrested, as she seemed to fear might be the case, what did she expect him to do? She could scarcely imagine that he and Wylie would attempt to rescue her from the Pannonian police. Of course they would appeal to the British Ambassador; but Zoe did not now believe that Eirene was even a British subject, and Maurice would probably have to declare his real name, with what danger to the purpose of his journey who could tell?
“Oh, Zoe, how carelessly you play! Check!” cried Eirene. “You are worse than you were months ago.” This for the benefit of a guard who had approached near enough to hear what they said. “Ah, it is nearly over!” with a sigh of relief. Zoe, looking up with the hasty idea of asking Maurice to get her some chocolate, by way of manufacturing another errand, saw to her delight the passengers returning hurriedly to the train. The dreaded twenty minutes was at an end.
“You know, I ran away,” said Eirene softly to her, as the train glided out of the station.
“I thought so,” responded Zoe; “but it can’t have been so very bad, as you took your aunt with you.”
“But I could never have gone alone!” in horror.
“No, I know it isn’t usual,” drily.
“Some day I will tell you how I did it,” pursued Eirene. “I thought I was safe, but if any of my precautions had failed, I knew it would be here they would catch me. Oh, and there is still another station before we are out of Vindobona! Begin another game, quickly!”
But the second station was comparatively unimportant, and the interval of terror of the briefest, and Zoe and Eirene released one another’s hands, and pretended to Maurice that a sudden intense interest in chess had prevented their having any desire to look out at the city and its buildings. At dinner, notwithstanding Mrs Smith’s objections, Wylie was accommodated with a temporary and most uncomfortable seat at the end of the table, and found himself very graciously treated, owing partly to Eirene’s sense of relief from her fears, and partly to the alacrity with which he had assisted Maurice in running her errands at the station. The night passed without alarm, for though the Thracian frontier had to be crossed, the Customs examination was considerately delayed until the morning, though it was necessary to get it over before reaching Tatarjé, where the passengers for Therma changed into another train, the Express going on to Czarigrad. As she watched it out of sight, Zoe sighed that half the romance was gone out of the journey, for the new train was unknown to fame, and by no means comparable with the wonderful microcosm which had been their home for nearly two days. Moreover, it moved as deliberately as the most local of English local trains, and its rusty engine groaned complaints as it dragged itself reluctantly out of the station.
Tatarjé naturally called up memories of Count Mortimer, the great English Minister whom the young King of Thracia had discarded on attaining his majority, and who was one of Zoe’s heroes. Wylie, who had heard little of him, was quite willing to be instructed and to share her enthusiasm, but Eirene was contemptuous. It was easy for any man to rise to power when he served a Queen who was willing to resign everything into his hands, she said; dealing with men was another matter. The discussion which ensued was of the nature of those parallel lines which can never meet, for it appeared that Eirene’s information was entirely derived from Scythian sources, and possessed nothing but the statesman’s name in common with Zoe’s. The crossing of the Roumi frontier gave a desirable change to the conversation, and Zoe sprang up to look out at “our own country,” as she whispered to Maurice. Her own country received her inhospitably, for rain was falling in torrents, and the general aspect was bare and neglected in the extreme. A squalid little station reached early in the afternoon, apparently unconnected with any town or village, was crowded with Roumi soldiers, and Wylie’s professional interest was aroused. He and Maurice left the carriage, taking with them all the cigarettes they possessed, and distributed them to the dripping, patient men. An elderly non-commissioned officer, who had been in Egypt, and recognising Wylie as a British officer, stood rigorously to attention when addressed, answered his questions in Arabic. The detachment had been ordered up to guard the railway, owing to a report that there was a band of Thracian revolutionaries in the neighbourhood with designs upon it. They had been at the station since early morning, without shelter or food, their uniforms ragged, their boots in holes. The station buildings were occupied by the Kaimakam of the district, under whose orders they were acting; he was immersed in business, but when he had time, would doubtless remember the needs of his troops. Some of the younger and more impatient spirits had spoken of bribing his secretary to draw his attention to the matter, but apart from the fact that with their pay months in arrears they could not offer enough to tempt so great a man, the sergeant considered that such an attempt would be an improper interference with the decrees of destiny. He saluted smartly, and stood back among his men, a stolid, shivering figure of military virtue in evil case.
“Some of the best material in the world!” said Wylie wrathfully to Maurice. “What soldiers we could make of them in India! British troops would have mutinied six hours ago. Look at the two sick men in that goods-shed, with the rain falling on them—and the Kaimakam, no doubt, is soothing himself with hashish in the station-master’s quarters!”