The time was drawing on for the departure of the St. Gothard express
at 9.8 A.M., and as yet I had no ticket. I had booked at
Amiens as far as Lucerne only, leaving further plans as events might
fall out. Now I desired to go on, but did not see how I was to take a
fresh ticket without his learning my destination. He would be certain
to be within earshot when I went up to the window.
I was beginning to despair when I saw Cook's man, who was, as usual,
hovering about to assist travellers in trouble, and I beckoned him to
approach.
"See that gentleman," I nodded towards the Colonel. "He wants you; do
your best for him." And when the tourist agent proceeded on his
mission to be accosted, I fear rather unceremoniously, I slipped off
and hid out of sight.
I felt sure I was unobserved as I took my place in the crowd at the
ticket-window, but when I had asked and paid for my place to Locarno I
heard, to my disgust, some one else applying for a ticket to exactly
the same place, and in a voice that was strangely familiar.
On looking round I saw Jules l'Echelle, the sleeping-car conductor,
but out of uniform, and with an amused grin on his face.
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