"Who's put me over here? I was over there, you know. You've no right to
do that!"
They assured me, however, that nobody had shifted me, but that the train
had turned round at Ghent.
I was annoyed at this. It seemed to me a mean trick for a train to start
off in one direction, and thus lure you into taking your seat (or
somebody else's seat, as the case might be) under the impression that you
were going to travel that way, and then, afterwards, turn round and go
the other way. I felt very doubtful, in my own mind, as to whether the
train knew where it was going at all.
At Brussels we got out and had some more coffee and rolls. I forget what
language I talked at Brussels, but nobody understood me. When I next
awoke, after leaving Brussels, I found myself going forwards again. The
engine had apparently changed its mind for the second time, and was
pulling the carriages the other way now. I began to get thoroughly
alarmed. This train was simply doing what it liked. There was no
reliance to be placed upon it whatever. The next thing it would do would
be to go sideways. It seemed to me that I ought to get up and see into
this matter; but, while pondering the business, I fell asleep again.
I was very sleepy indeed when they routed us out at Herbesthal, to
examine our luggage for Germany. I had a vague idea that we were
travelling in Turkey, and had been stopped by brigands. When they told
me to open my bag, I said, "Never!" and remarked that I was an
Englishman, and that they had better be careful. I also told them that
they could dismiss any idea of ransom from their minds at once, unless
they were prepared to take I.O.U.'s, as it was against the principles of
our family to pay cash for anything--certainly not for relatives.
They took no notice of my warning, and caught hold of my Gladstone. I
resisted feebly, but was over-powered, and went to sleep again.
On awakening, I discovered myself in the buffet. I have no recollection
of going there. My instinct must have guided me there during my sleep.
I ordered my usual repast of coffee and rolls. (I must have been full of
coffee and rolls by this time.) I had got the idea into my head now that
I was in Norway, and so I ordered them in broken Scandinavian, a few
words of which I had picked up during a trip through the fiords last
summer.
Of course, the man did not understand; but I am accustomed to witnessing
the confusion of foreigners when addressed in their native tongue, and so
forgave him--especially as, the victuals being well within reach,
language was a matter of secondary importance.
I took two cups of coffee, as usual--one for B., and one for myself--and,
bringing them to the table, looked round for B. I could not see him
anywhere. What had become of him? I had not seen him, that I could
recollect, for hours. I did not know where I was, or what I was doing.
I had a hazy knowledge that B. and I had started off together--whether
yesterday or six months ago, I could not have said to save my life--with
the intention, if I was not mistaken, of going somewhere and seeing
something. We were now somewhere abroad--somewhere in Norway was my
idea; though why I had fixed on Norway is a mystery to me to this
day--and I had lost him!
How on earth were we ever to find each other again? A horrible picture
presented itself to my mind of our both wandering distractedly up and
down Europe, perhaps for years, vainly seeking each other. The touching
story of Evangeline recurred to me with terrible vividness.
Something must be done, and that immediately. Somehow or another I must
find B. I roused myself, and summoned to my aid every word of
Scandinavian that I knew.
It was no good these people pretending that they did not understand their
own language, and putting me off that way. They had got to understand it
this time. This was no mere question of coffee and rolls; this was a
serious business. I would make that waiter understand my Scandinavian,
if I had to hammer it into his head with his own coffee-pot!
I seized him by the arm, and, in Scandinavian that must have been quite
pathetic in its tragic fervour, I asked him if he had seen my friend--my
friend B.
The man only stared.