Vast convoys of provisions were being held in readiness on the Russian side of the frontier, and a second army of one hundred and twenty thousand men was to be secretly mobilised in and around Warsaw, ready to come to the support of the first, in the event of serious resistance on the part of the Austrian Government. This last item rested on hearsay, but the presence of two army corps on Galician soil was a fact for which my informants were able to vouch from their own observation. The fact was known to every smuggler along the Galician frontier, and yet, so profuse were the bribes they had received, and so perfect was their secrecy, that not the slightest hint had been suffered to reach any official of the Austrian Government. I spent some hours of the most agonising suspense I have ever known, in the company of these drunken outlaws, before I dared to risk an effort to get away. Their suspicions, or rather their natural distrustfulness, caused them to raise all sorts of objections to my departure. It was only by swearing on the sacred pentagram that no hair of their heads should ever be imperilled by any action of mine, that I was able to tear myself away. When I got out on to the high road again, at the spot where I had left my motor, I found, as I had feared, that it was no longer there. I turned at haphazard in the direction of the frontier post. As soon as I came in sight of the Russian guard-house, I saw, to my delight, my car standing on the road in the front of the door, with a group of interested soldiers curiously inspecting every part of it. Now the car happened to be a Panhard, of the most powerful construction yet turned out by the famous French firm. I strolled up carelessly, greeted the astonished soldiers in broken Russian, and asked them if they were familiar with the machine. The lieutenant of the post, a man in education and intelligence below the level of an English sergeant, bustled out and began questioning me, with the evident intention of ordering my arrest. I handed him my passport to read, a process which takes some time with an illiterate Russian officer, and went on explaining the mechanism of the car to the inquisitive soldiers. Finally I came to the driving power. ‘And now, my friends,’ I said, ‘I will show you how the car is propelled. Stand back clear of the wheels, if you please. You see this lever. I place my hand on it so----’ ‘Stay!’ shouted the officer, divining the danger in this demonstration. He spoke too late. As my hand grasped the lever, I vaulted into the car, and before the excited soldiers realised that it was under way, the Panhard was tearing towards the boundary line at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour.