"Oh, ah, I see now," said Simon. "It's a railway station, and I see that 'ere willain there, jest as cunnin' as ever. He's a gettin' in the train, he is." "Can you see the name of the station?" "No, I can't. It's a biggish place it is, and I can't see no name. Stay a minute, though. I see now." "Well, what's the name?" "It's a name as I never see or heard tell on before. B-O-L-O--ah, that's it; BOLOGNA, that's it. It is a queer name though, ain't it?" "Well, what now?" "Why, he's in the train, and it's started, it is." "Do you know where he's going?" "No." "But he has a ticket; can't you see it?" "Course I can't. It's in his pocket, and I can't see through the cloth, I can't." "And what's he doing now?" "Why, he's in for makin' hisself comfortable, he is. He's got a piller, and he's stretchin' hisself on the seat and layin' his head on the piller. There, he's closed his eyes--he's off to sleep." The professor turned to me. "I am afraid we can do no more to-night," he said. "Evidently he is on a journey, and we must wait until he arrives at his destination." "But can't Slowden remain as he is and watch him?" "The thing would be at once cruel and preposterous, sir. No, you must come again in the morning; then, perchance, he will have finished his journey;" and accordingly he proceeded to awake Simon. After all, it did not matter so much. It was now ten o'clock, and I could do nothing that night, in any case. "I do not know but that I am glad that things are as they are," continued the professor. "This second sleep will enable him to see more clearly to-morrow. Meanwhile, consider yourself fortunate. If the Egyptian stops anywhere in Italy, it will be possible for you to reach him and bring him back within the time you mention. Take heart, my friend. Good-bye for the time. I shall expect you early to-morrow." No sooner were we in the street than Simon began to ask me what he had told me, for I found that he was entirely ignorant of the things he had said. "Who'd 'a thought it?" he said musingly, when I had told him. "Who'd 'a thought as 'ow I should hassist in a waccinatin' business like this 'ere! Tell 'ee, yer 'onour, I shall believe in ghosts and sperrits again soon. Fancy me a-seein' things in Italy and tellin' 'em to you without knowin' anything about it! Well, but 'twill be grand if we can find 'im, yer honour, won't it then?"