The train by which I travelled was a long one, and it was increased before we entered Asia by the addition of an open car like a cattle-truck, containing peasants whom I took to be prisoners. I had to be careful not to show myself too inquisitive, but I noticed at the various stations along the track that they were all young men of about the same age, and that they got in and out in obedience to orders given by officials who were armed, and whom I imagined to be warders or police. I did not consider it safe to hold much conversation with my fellow passengers. It was probable that more than one spy was among them. I had an uneasy sensation of being watched by invisible eyes, and I knew that if I once aroused real suspicion by my behaviour, my doom was sealed. So the days and nights passed, and the train crept on its way across the silence of the frozen continent. I strained my eyes in vain across the blinding waste, and strained my ears through the night. No sight or sound rewarded me, save the solitary huts of the railway-men and the monotonous tinkle of sleigh-bells. According to my reckoning we had got nearly half way from the Ural to the Amur when the longest stage of all was reached. We ran from the sunset of one day to nearly noon of the next, only halting to take in water and fuel. Then at last the train entered a town of considerable importance, apparently a sort of depôt of the line, there being many side-rails on which trucks were standing as though waiting till they should be required. As soon as the train stopped, I got out as usual with the other passengers, to stretch my legs and look about me. The long journey and the lack of proper rest had so exhausted me that it was some time before I realised that there was an unusual lack of bustle about this particular halt. When at last the fact of this strange stillness was borne in upon my consciousness, I roused myself to observation. At once I perceived that the alighting passengers were fewer in number than before. It was the troop I had mistaken for prisoners who were missing. I looked at the end of the train for their car. It was no longer there. We had silently slipped the wagon in the course of the night! This discovery acted on my tired brain like magic. In an instant I was again the alert, cautious investigator whose decisions were as swift as his intuitions were unerring. Without hesitating I returned to my carriage, removed my luggage with the aid of a porter, and ordered a sleigh to drive me to the hotel. The guard of the train came up to me, as I was making these preparations, and asked me if I were not going on. ‘Not by your train,’ I replied blandly. ‘I shall break my journey here, and look about me. By what I can see this place seems likely to be an important commercial centre, such as I have come in search of.’