One fact which delighted me was that in the present suggestion there seemed no criminal intent. And for that reason I quite willingly left London for the Near East three days later.
My destination was Sofia, the Bulgarian capital, and the journey by the Orient Express across Europe was a long and tedious one.
I was much occupied with the piece of scheming which I had undertaken to carry out in Sofia. My patriotism had led me to attempt a very difficult task—one which would require delicate tact and a good deal of courage and resource, but which would, if successful, Rayne had said, mean that a loan of three millions would be raised in London, and that British influence would become paramount in that go-ahead country, which ere long must be the power of the Balkans.
The tentacles of the great criminal octopus which Rayne controlled were indeed far-spread. In this he was making a bid for fortune, without a doubt.
To the majority of people, the Balkan States are, even to-day, terra incognita. The popular idea is that they are wild, inaccessible countries, inhabited by brigands. That is not so. True, there are brigands, even now after the war, in the Balkans, but Belgrade, the Serbian capital, is as civilized as Berlin, and the main boulevard of Sofia, whither I was bound, is at night almost a replica of the Boulevard des Italiens.
I knew, however, that there were others in Sofia upon the same errand as myself, emissaries of other Governments and other financial houses. Therefore in those three long, never-ending days and nights which the journey occupied, my mind was constantly filled with the thoughts of the best and most judicious course to pursue in order to attain my object.
The run East was uneventful, save for one fact—at the Staatsbahnhof, at Vienna, just before our train left for Budapest, a queer, fussy little old man in brown entered and was given the compartment next to mine.
His nationality I could not determine. He spoke in a deep guttural voice with the fair-bearded conductor of the train, but by his clothes—which were rather dandified for so old a man—I did not believe him to be a native of the Fatherland.
I heard him rumbling about with his bags in the next compartment, apparently settling himself, when of a sudden, my quick ear caught an imprecation which he uttered to himself in English.
A few hours later, at dinner in the wagon-restaurant, I found him placed at the same little table opposite me, and naturally we began to chat. He spoke in French, perfect French it was, but refused to speak English, though, of course, he could had he wished.