PODB. You artful old whistling oyster, _I_ see what you're up to! But it's no go; she don't want either of us Engadining about after her. It's Charley Van Stickinthemud's turn now! We've got to go to Nuremberg. You can't get out of it, after gassing so much about the place. When you've once decided, you know, it's _final_! CULCH. (_with dignity_). I am not aware that I _wanted_ to get out of it. I merely proposed in your----(PODBURY _suddenly explodes_.) What are you cackling at _now_? PODB. (_wiping his eyes_). It's the last laugh, old man,--and it's the best! [CULCHARD _walks away rapidly, leaving_ PODBURY _in solitary enjoyment of the joke._ PODBURY'S _mirth immediately subsides into gravity, and he kicks several unoffending chairs with quite uncalled-for brutality._ CHAPTER VII. A Dissolution of Partnership. SCENE--_A Second-Class Compartment on the line between Wurzburg and Nuremberg._ PODBURY _has been dull and depressed all day, not having recovered from the parting with_ MISS TROTTER. CULCHARD, _on the contrary, is almost ostentatiously cheerful._ PODBURY _is intensely anxious to find out how far his spirits are genuine, but--partly from shyness, and partly because some of their fellow travellers have been English--he has hesitated to introduce the subject. At last, however, they are alone, and he is determined to have it out on the very first opportunity._ CULCHARD. Abominably slow train, this _Schnell-zug_. I hope we shall get to Nuremberg before it's too dark to see the general effect. PODBURY. We're not likely to be in time for _table d'hote_--not that _I'm_ peckish. (_He sighs._) Wonder whereabouts the--the Trotters have got to by now, eh? [_He feels he is getting red, and hums the Garden Scene from_ "_Faust_." CULCH. (_indifferently_). Oh, let me see--just arriving at St. Moritz, I expect. Wonderful effect of colour, that is. [_He indicates the West, where a bar of crimson is flaming between a belt of firs._ Podb. (_absently_). Oh, wonderful!--where? (_Hums a snatch of a waltz._) Dum-dum-diddle-um-tum-dum-dum-dum-ty-doodle; dum-dum--I say, _you_ don't seem particularly cut up? CULCH. Cut up? Why should I be cut up, my dear fellow?--about what? [_Before_ PODBURY _can explain, two_ Talkative British Tourists _tumble up into the compartment, and he has to control his curiosity once more._ FIRST T. T. Well, I 'ope we're all right _now_, Sam, I'm sure--these German jokers have chivied us about enough for one journey! (_To_ CULCHARD.) Not in your way, this 'at box, Sir? Don't give yer much space in these foreign trains. (_They settle down and the train starts._) Pretty bit o' country along 'ere!--puts me in mind o' the best part o' Box 'Ill--and I can't say more for it than _that_! [Illustration: "PUTS ME IN MIND O' THE BEST PART O' BOX 'ILL."] SECOND T. T. (_a little man with a sandy fringe and boiled-looking eyes_). What I notice about the country abroad is they don't seem to 'ave no _landmarks_.