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Page 81
He slept with his clothes on that Monday night, but he slept heavily
for he was tired and his arm was no longer painful. The tear of
wound he called a scratch was healing swiftly.
Tuesday morning passed in the same maddening suspense. Captain
Kerissen rode out that morning but only to the parade ground, where
he took part in a review with his troops. It was noticed that his
right hand was bandaged, but the injury could not have been severe
for his thumb was free from the bandage and he occasionally used
that hand upon the reins. It was the bright eyes of the Imp that
were sure of that.
In the afternoon the Captain went again to the barracks and then to
the palace of one of the colonels in his regiment. Then he went
home.
Utterly disgusted with this waiting game Billy began to dress for
dinner. All lathered for a shave he stood testing his razor on a
hair when his unlocked door was violently opened and a panting
little figure darted across to him. It was the Imp.
"Sir, he goes, he goes upon the minute," he panted out. "He is in
the station. Quick!"
Like a streak of lathered lightening Billy went for his clothes. A
centipede could have been no more active. He jerked up his
suspenders; he jerked on a shirt; he jerked on a coat; he was wiping
his face as he darted through the halls and down the stairs. No lift
had speed enough for his descent. At the desk he flung some gold
pieces at the clerk, cried something about being called out of the
city, and asked to have his room kept; then he was down the steps
and into the carriage that the Imp had magically summoned.
The drive to the station was a series of escapes. Between jolts the
Imp gasped out the rest of the story. The Captain had ridden out in
the automobile. The Imp had given chase and so had the one-eyed man,
also on guard, and by dint of running for dear life they had kept
the motor in sight until the crowded city streets were reached and a
series of delays enabled them to catch up with it. As soon as they
saw the motor stop before the station the boy had rushed for Billy
while the Arab remained to shadow the Captain and learn his
destination.
They themselves were at the station now, and Billy was still tying
his cravat. Now they jumped down and pressed through the confusion,
dodging dragomans, porters, drivers and hotel runners and making a
vigorous way past hurrying travelers and through bewildered
blockades of tourist parties. Suddenly over the bobbing heads they
saw the face they sought. A single eye glared significance upon
them. An uplifted hand beckoned furiously.
"Assiout," whispered the one-eyed man as Billy reached him.
"Assiout. That one goes to Assiout on the night express."
"My ticket? Got a ticket for me?"
Upturned palms bespoke the absence of ticket and the Arab's deep
regret. "The price was much. I waited----"
Billy was off. There was no chance of his getting past that stolid
guard without a ticket and he charged toward the seller's window,
where a line of natives was forming for another train.
"_Siut_!" he shouted over their heads, and scattering silver and
smiles and apologies he crowded past the motley line to the window
and fairly snatched the miles of green ticket from the Copt's quick
fingers.
He was the last man through the gate, and as he darted through the
clicking of compartment doors was heard with the parting cries of
the guards and the shouts of dragomans and porters. It was a train
_de luxe_ where the sleeping sections had long been reserved, but to
accommodate the crowded travel ordinary compartment cars had been
added at the last minute, and it was at one of these that Billy
grasped, as the wheels were moving faster and faster. A gold piece
caused a guard to unlock the first compartment door, although it
said, "_Dames Seules_," and "Ladies Only" in large letters.
It was not a corridor train and the compartment was already filled,
and as Billy wormed his way, not into the nearest corner, for that
was not yielded to him, but into the modicum of space accorded
between two stout and glaringly grudging matrons, he became aware
from the hostile stares that his entrance had not been solitary.
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