All I
know is, that we found his name a perfect tower of strength along
the entire route we traversed.
And now we were whirling along towards Basle in the rather stuffy
splendours provided for us by the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons
Lits, that reminded one, as much as anything of being fixed into
one's allotted place in a sort of gigantic Gladstone Bag--an illusion
assisted, no doubt, by the prominence of a deal of silver-plated
fittings, in the shape of knobs and door-handles, all somewhat
tarnished and dusty. True, the compartment, which gave on to a
corridor running the whole length of the carriage, was provided with
a table, an inkstand, a large pan for cigar-ash, and a colossal
spittoon; but as one had no immediate need of any of these things,
and they filled up the already sufficiently limited space, one was
strongly disposed, but for the presence of the military official of
the Wagons Lits who paced the corridor before alluded to, to pitch
them all out of the window then and there. But it was drawing on
towards seven o'clock, and the question of feeding naturally came to
the fore. How was the Dilapidated One to get his meal at Tergnier,
the place where the military official informed us we should find "an
excellent repast, 'ot, and ready, with plenty of time to dispose of
'im with every facility," waiting for us.
[Illustration: "C'est tout, Monsieur?"]
Young JERRYMAN suggested the luncheon-basket, which he saw an American
get through the other day, containing two pork sandwiches, nine
inches long; half a fowl, a couple of rolls, three peaches, a bunch
of grapes, a jam-tart, and a bottle of wine; but Dr.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25