In half an hour the officer opened his grip and took out a small pneumatic traveling-pillow. I saw the full contents of the bag. There was one Russian blouse and the pillow, nothing more. The grip itself was a large one--twice the size of my dress-suit case--and the fact that he would use so huge a valise to carry a pillow that would go into a pocket, and a blouse that would fold into an insignificant parcel, confirmed my fears that the man had been sent hurriedly on his journey, and that quite evidently he was shadowing me. There was nothing to do, however, but to keep on and to pretend entire indifference. After a time I grew drowsy and folded my coat under my head for a pillow, wrapped my rug about me, and lay down. The last thing I did was to examine the compartment-door to see that it was securely fastened. The train was running over a smooth roadbed and the gentle motion to and fro soothed my nerves and in a little while I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The striking of a match awoke me suddenly. I half opened my eyes and saw my gendarme officer looking at his watch. It was still dark, and I drowsily wondered what the time was myself. I was too sleepy to look at my own watch. I guessed the hour at about four o’clock, closed my eyes, and was just sinking into sleep again when I felt a hand reach across my body and strike the compartment wall. At the same instant the hoarse voice of the gendarme officer cried out: “Sir! Sir! Wake up!” I opened my eyes wide to see the man leaning over me, his arm across my body, and his face directly over mine, so close that I could feel his foul breath with each word he spoke. “Has any one been in this compartment during the night?” he shouted excitedly. I understood perfectly what he said but I did not grasp his game, so I simply said, “What?” and as he repeated his question I gathered my wits. “I do not speak Russian,” I said. “Yes, you do,” he replied. “No. Only a few words. I am an American!” “An American!” he cried. “That is impossible!” I saw the trap I was walking into. His next demand would be for my passport, so I shifted the matter like a flash. “What is the matter?” I said. “Why do you wake me up in the middle of the night this way?” “Has any one been in this compartment?” he asked. “No, I think not,” I answered. “Did you make sure the door was locked last night?” “Certainly. Is it not locked now?” “Yes. It is. That is what makes it so strange.” “Makes what strange?” I put in, really getting greatly puzzled. “My money and my official papers are gone!” he blurted out. At these words I felt a shiver pass up my back. For a flash it was as if my spine were in water. Then I pulled myself together. “When did you have them last?” I asked. “Just before I went to bed,” he answered. “Then they must be here.” In the meantime he had drawn the curtain back from the single candle that lighted the compartment and in that dim light we sat in opposite berths and glared at each other.