“Well,” I said, pretty sternly, “just take care that we don’t meet again by accident after to-night. You understand?” The train was moving, so he was compelled to travel in the same compartment with me to the next stopping-place on the fifty-mile run that separates the Danube from the Roumanian capital. “I know,” I went on, “that you think I have some official documents with me that would be extremely interesting to your employers. Yes, I admit I have had some, but I’m scarcely such a fool as to travel about with them. They would be interesting reading to you, but fortunately they are already safe in London. So you are really only wasting your valuable time, my dear monsieur.” “M’sieur quite misunderstands me—he takes common politeness for inquisitiveness.” “Well, I don’t want any of your polite attentions,” I declared very bluntly; “and if you don’t get out at the next station I shall just kick you out. You understand that?” He saw I had my hand in my jacket-pocket all the time, and doubtless guessed what I had there. “I shall stay here,” he answered defiantly. “Excellent,” was my response. “And when we get to the next station I shall call the gendarmes and have you arrested as a foreign secret agent.” “You’ve made a great mistake,” he declared resentfully. “Very well. Let’s see. You remain here, and I’ll call the police.” He did not reply. For half an hour he sat quite silent, while I, fearing treachery, kept my hand upon the trigger of my weapon, for as a matter of fact I had with me some papers of the very highest importance to Austria—papers that would have compromised certain highly-placed persons in the Balkans. The spy was evidently aware of this, and it was the motive of his strenuous endeavour to seize an opportunity to get hold of the confidential statements in question. In Roumania, as in Servia, they treat foreign spies with scant courtesy, and the fellow’s manner belied his defiant words. That half-hour was an exciting one, until at last, after what seemed an interminable period, the train slowed down and came to a standstill, when my inquisitive friend of evil intentions descended, and without a word disappeared in the darkness. I thought I had rid myself of his surveillance, but I was mistaken. Next day I met him in the streets of Bucharest, and so persistently did he follow me that I was compelled to lodge a complaint with the police. As soon as I had done that, I saw him no more. My own belief was that he was arrested. He may be in prison now, for all I know. In any case, he disappeared as completely as though the earth had swallowed him up. This little incident, both annoying and exciting at the time, was my first adventure on entering Roumania, but it was soon forgotten amid the gaieties of smart Bucharest.