THE NIGHT TRAIN FROM VIENNA
Dorwood, whistling softly to himself, sat in a corner of his coupe rolling innumerable cigarettes. He was a man of unbounded courage and wonderful resource, but with a slightly exaggerated idea as to the sanctity of an American citizen. He had served his apprenticeship in his own country, and his name had become a household word owing to his brilliant success as war correspondent in the Russo-Japanese War. His experience of European countries, however, was limited. After the more obvious dangers with which he had grappled and which he had overcome during his adventurous career, he was disposed to be a little contemptuous of the subtler perils at which his friend Bellamy had plainly hinted. He had made his escape from the hotel without any very serious difficulty, and since that time, although he had taken no particular precautions, he had remained unmolested. From his own point of view, therefore, it was perhaps only reasonable that he should no longer have any misgiving as to his personal safety. ARREST as a thief was the worst which he had feared. Even that he seemed now to have evaded.
The coupe was exceedingly comfortable and, after all, he had had a somewhat exciting day. He lit a cigarette and stretched himself out with a murmur of immense satisfaction. He was close upon the great triumph of his life. He was perfectly content to lie there and look out upon the flying landscape, upon which the shadows were now fast descending. He was safe, absolutely safe, he assured himself. Nevertheless, when the door of his coupe was opened, he started almost like a guilty man. The relief in his face as he recognized his visitor was obvious. It was Bellamy who entered and dropped into a seat by his side.
"Wasting your time, aren't you?" the latter remarked, pointing to the growing heap of cigarettes.
"Well, I guess not," Dorward answered. "I can smoke this lot before we reach London."Bellamy smiled enigmatically.
"I don't think that you will," he said.
"Why not?"
"You are such a sanguine person," Bellamy sighed. "Personally, Ido not think that there is the slightest chance of your reaching London at all."Dorward laughed scornfully.
"And why not?" he asked.
Bellamy merely shrugged his shoulders. Dorward seemed to find the gesture irritating.
"You've got espionage on the brain, my dear friend," he declared dryly. "I suppose it's the result of your profession. I may not know so much about Europe as you do, but I am inclined to think that an American citizen traveling with his passport on a train like this is moderately safe, especially when he's not above a scrap by way of taking care of himself.""You're a plucky fellow," remarked Bellamy.
"I don't see any pluck about it. In Vienna, I must admit, Ishouldn't have been surprised if they'd tried to fake up some sort of charge against me, but anyhow they didn't. Guess they'd find it a pretty tall order trying to interfere with an American citizen."Bellamy looked at his friend curiously.
"I suppose you're not bluffing, by any chance, Dorward?" he said.
"You really believe what you say?"
"Why in thunder shouldn't I?" Dorward asked.
Bellamy sighed.
"My dear Dorward," he said, "it is amazing to me that a man of your experience should talk and behave like a baby. You've taken some notice of your fellow-passengers, I suppose?""I've seen a few of them," Dorward answered carelessly. "What about them?""Nothing much," Bellamy declared, "except that there are, to my certain knowledge, three high officials of the Secret Police of Austria in the next coupe but one, and at least four or five of their subordinates somewhere on board the train."Dorward withdrew his cigarette from his mouth and looked at his friend keenly.
"I guess you're trying to scare me, Bellamy," he remarked.
But Bellamy was suddenly grave. There had come into his face an utterly altered expression. His tone, when he spoke, was almost solemn.
