The wine passed freely between our Russian comrades; but with the truest hospitality they forbore to press us to drink against our wish. The dinner was extremely good, even luxurious; and Kell laughingly lamented to me his inability to entertain his friends as well as his Russian colleague could contrive to do. But here, again, I think he was helped by his Government, for I fancy that he received an entertainment allowance. As the wine circulated rapidly our companions became boisterous and showed some signs of inebriation. Beside me sat an officer who filled the post of military director of the railway between Shanhaikwan and Newchwang. I had long been desirous of visiting Manchuria by this route, but had always been assured that the Russians were very unwilling to allow any foreigner, especially a British officer, to use it; that it was hopeless to try to obtain their permission. As my neighbour’s tongue seemed a good deal loosened by his potations, I determined to get him off his guard and sound him as to the possibility of my proceeding northward to Manchuria from Shanhaikwan. I began by telling him that I hoped to sail in a few days from Taku for Newchwang, and remarked that it was a pity that the Russian authorities were so averse to British officers visiting Manchuria. He waxed quite indignant at the idea, and assured me that they were sadly misrepresented. “But,” said I, “we would not be allowed to travel from here to Newchwang by your railway.” “Not be allowed? Absurd! Of course you would,” he replied. “I am the director of that section of the line; it is under my charge. Surely I know best.” “Oh, come,” I said chaffingly, “you know that if I wanted to travel by it you would not permit me.” “Most certainly I would. I should be delighted.” I shall pin you to that, I thought. I felt very pleased at achieving a result that everyone had told me was impossible, Kell among them; so I glanced in triumph at him. He smiled. “Do you mean to say that I could go to Newchwang whenever I liked by your line?” I continued to my neighbour. “Certainly you could,” he replied, draining his glass, which I had taken care had not stood idle during our conversation. Wine in, wit out, I thought. “Well, in that case,” said I, “I will cancel my passage by steamer and start by rail from here to‐morrow.” “Eh? Oh! You are serious? You really wish to go by train?” he stammered, taken aback. “Yes; I shall telegraph to the Steamship Company at Tientsin in the morning, and start by the first train I can get.” For a second my friend seemed disconcerted. The other Russians had been following our conversation with interest. Suddenly sobered, my neighbour spoke to them in a low tone; and a muttered colloquy took place. Then he turned again to me and said, with a smile of innocent regret—