"I'll leave you in charge for a week or so," said I. "What little news
there is at the Houses you can cover. I'll take care of anything of
importance that occurs abroad. I might as well pack up and get out
to-night. A boat leaves Dover early in the morning."
Then I picked up the third and last letter. It was from Phyllis. It
contained the enjoyable news that the Wentworths were coming abroad,
and that they would remain indefinitely at B----, where Mr. Wentworth
had been appointed charge d'affaires under the American Minister. They
were to visit the Mediterranean before coming to London. They would be
in town in October. The mere thought of seeing Phyllis made my heart
throb.
The next morning I put out from Dover. It was a rough passage for that
time of the year, and I came near being sea-sick. A day or so in Paris
brought me around, and I proceeded. As I passed the frontier I noticed
that my passports were eagerly scanned, and that I was closely
scrutinized for some reason or other.
A smartly dressed officer occupied half of the carriage compartment
with me. I tried to draw him into conversation, but he proved to be
untalkative; so I busied myself with the latest issue of the Paris
_L'Illustration_. I never glanced in the direction of the officer but
what I found him staring intently at me. This irritated me. The
incident was repeated so many times that I said: "I trust Herr will remember me in the days to come."
"Eh?" somewhat startled, I thought.
"I observed that you will possibly remember me in the days to come.
Or, perhaps I resemble some one you know."
"Not in the least," was the haughty retort.
I shrugged and relit my pipe. The tobacco I had purchased in Paris,
and it was of the customary vileness. Perhaps I could smoke out Mein
Herr. But the task resulted in a boomerang. He drew out a huge china
pipe and began smoking tobacco which was even viler than mine, if that
could be possible. Soon I let down the window.
"Does the smoke disturb Herr?" he asked, puffing forth great clouds of
smoke. There was a shade of raillery in his tones.
"It would not," I answered, "if it came from tobacco."
He subsided.
Whenever there was a stop of any length I stepped out and walked the
platform. The officer invariably followed my example. I pondered over
this each time I re-entered the carriage. At last my irritation turned
into wrath.