The Vultures

platform as that which is called the Warsaw Express steamed into Alexandrowo Station. T

th the searching eye of the officials, Heaven only knows! There is no other way of passing Alexandrowo-of getting in or out of the kingdom of Poland-but by this route. Before the train is at a standstill at the platform each one of the long corridor carriages is boarded by a man in the dirty white trousers, the green

ence will see the traveller through. There is no fear of his being left in the huge station, or of his going anywhere but to his avowed and rightful destination. But with a passport that is old or torn

ptied and searched. The travellers are penned within a large room where the luggage is inspected, and they are deprived of their passports. When the customs f

en, better dressed than the others, had the appearance of Englishmen. They drifted together-just as the women drifted together and the little knot of shady characters who hoped against hope that their passports were in order. For the mo

had steamed into Berlin Station as the Warsaw Express left it. He seemed to know the ways of Alexandrowo, and the formalities to be observed at the frontier, but he was not eager to betray his knowledge. He obeyed wit

ppened to turn his profile. Cartoner recognized the profile, and drew away to the far corner of the examination-room. But they drifted together again-or, perhaps, the younger man made a p

d it and laid it on the table in front of Cartoner. He was a fair young man, w

said, with an eas

king the proffered cigarette

look, a picturesque turn of the head-a sense, as it were, of the outwardly pictorial side of existence. He moved his chair, in order to turn his back on a Russian officer who was sea

ur of the twenty-four, but at three in the morning it is rather p

companion glanced at him inquiringly. It seemed

e of them I am quite on friendly terms. They are inconceivably stupid; as boring as-the multiplication-table. I a

cket, not for his cigarette

cognized you from your likeness to your sister. I w

"Dear old Wanda! How is she? She was t

across t

to me nearly every day, and I hear about all their friends-the Orlays and the o

ald Ca

rd of you-but n

ed to r

lin-you know Deulin?-has spoken to us of you. No doubt we have dozens of other friends in common. We shall find them out in time. I am very glad to meet you. You say you know my name-yes

there was anything to laugh at, but merely because he w

. "Cartoner," Paul Deulin had once said to a common friend, "weighs you, and natu

d, at length. "He was kind enoug

er quite understood on the Continent-that if you go to London you must speak English. If you cannot, you had better hang yourself and be d

lights, I was," a

a gay heart that can be am

d man by the side of the road from Jerusalem down to Jericho, and there is a tendency to pass by on the other side. We are a nation with

owledgment to the profound bows of a gold-laced official who had approached

Prince Martin, and slipped t

n. Mine is the doubtful privilege of being known here, and being a suspected character. So they are doubly polite and do

eplied Cartoner. Whi

ore there was a Russian Empire or an Austrian Empire or a German Empire. We are a landlady who has seen better days; who has let

almost daylight now, and the train was drawn up in readiness to start, with a fresh engine and new officials. The homeliness of Germany

be glad to see you. We will do what we can to make the place tolerable for you. We live in the Kotzebue, and I have a horse for you when you want it. You

w how long I shall stay. I am not my own master, you understand.

ve the races coming on. I hope you will be here for them. In our small way, it is the season in Warsaw now

nod the Russian officer who was pas

ey have more money than we have. We have been

riage. He was so accustomed to the recognition

had quite forgotten that it is yo

ou of it several times,"

you mean?" asked

es

or of Cartoner's compartment.

u will get some more sleep. We

ridor. For, like nearly all his countrymen, Prince Martin was a man of tongues. The Pole is compelled by circumstances to learn several languages: first, his own; then the language of the conq

eeing eye, and the sleeping-carriage lumbered along in silence. The Englishman seemed to have no desire for sleep, though, not being an impressionable man, he was usually able to rest and work, fast and eat at such times as might be convenient. He was considered by his f

th. But in this instance the treatment had not been markedly successful, and Cartoner was wondering now why the prince had been so difficult to offend. He had refused the friendship, and the effect had only been to bring the friend closer. Cartoner sat at the open window until the sun rose a

t do. You cannot appear in Warsaw as our friend. It would never do for us to show special atte

Cartoner, "I

for Prince Martin was

way, and they shook hands as the

turned and looked ba

o me. She might have foreseen that we should meet. She is quick enough,

nswer, and at leng

ow that I was c