The young Serbian shrugged his shoulders; and they passed into the office of Colonel Michailovitch, who was examining Sylvia's passport with the rapt concentration of gaze that could only be achieved by some one who was incapable of understanding a single word of what he was apparently reading. The colonel bowed to Sylvia when she entered, and invited her to sit down. Hazlewood asked him if he might look at the passport. "It's quite in order, I think, mon colonel," he said in French. The colonel agreed with him. "You have no objection to its being returned?" "_Pas du tout, pas du tout! Plaisir, plaisir!_" exclaimed the colonel. "And I think you would like to hear from--" Hazlewood glanced at the passport--"from Miss Scarlett? Sylvia Scarlett?" he repeated, looking at her. "Why, I believe we have a friend in common. Aren't you a friend of Michael Fane?" Sylvia realized how familiar his name should be to her; and she felt that her eyes brightened in assent. "He's in Serbia, you know," said Hazlewood. "Now?" she asked. "Yes. I'll tell you about him. _Je demande pardon, mon colonel, mais je connais cette dame._" "_Enchanté, enchanté_," said the colonel, getting up and shaking hands cordially. "_Le Capitaine Antonivitch. Le Lieutenant Lazarevitch_," he added, indicating the other officers, who saluted and shook hands with her. "They're awful dears, aren't they?" murmured Hazlewood. Then he went on in French, "But, mon colonel, I beg you will ask Miss Scarlett any questions you want to ask about this man Rakoff." "_Vous me permittez, madame?_" the colonel inquired. "_Desolé, mais vous comprenez, la guerre c'est comme ça, n'est-ce pas? Ah oui, la guerre._" Everybody in the office sighed in echo, "_Ah oui, la guerre!_" "Where did this man get into the train?" "At Plevna, I believe." "Did he talk about anything in particular?" "About roses mostly. He said he did not believe there could be war with Serbia. He spoke very bitterly against Germany." Sylvia answered many more questions in favor of her fellow-traveler. The colonel talked for a few moments in Serbian to his assistants; presently a grubby-looking peasant was brought in, at whom the colonel shouted a number of questions, the answers to which seemed to reduce him to a state of nervous despair. One of the officers retired and came back with the Bulgarian rose-grower; after a great deal of talking the peasant was sent away and Rakoff's passport was handed back to him. "_Je suis libre?_" asked the Bulgarian, looking round him. The colonel bowed stiffly. "This lady has spoken of your horticultural passion," said Hazlewood, looking at Rakoff straight in the eyes. "_Je suis infiniment reconnaissant_," the Bulgarian murmured, with a bow. Then he saluted the company and went out. "I daren't precipitate the situation," the colonel told Hazlewood. "He must leave Nish at once, but if he tries to alight before the Greek frontier, he can always be arrested."