At six o’clock we halt for half an hour at King-Tcheou, of which I only saw a few pagodas, and about ten o’clock there is a halt of three-quarters of an hour at Si-Ngan, of which I did not even see the outline.

All night was spent in running the three hundred kilometres which separate this town from Ho Nan, where we had an hour to stop.

I fancy the Londoners might easily imagine that this town of Ho Nan was London, and perhaps Mrs. Ephrinell did so.  Not because there was a Strand with its extraordinary traffic, nor a Thames with its prodigious movement of barges and steamboats.  No!  But because we were in a fog so thick that it was impossible to see either houses or pagodas.

The fog lasted all day, and this hindered the progress of the train.  These Chinese engine-drivers are really very skilful and attentive and intelligent.

We were not fortunate in our last day’s journey before reaching Tien Tsin!  What a loss of copy!  What paragraphs were melted away in these unfathomable vapors!  I saw nothing of the gorges and ravines, through which runs the Grand Transasiatic; nothing of the valley of Lou-Ngan, where we stopped at eleven o’clock; nothing of the two hundred and thirty kilometres which we accomplished amid the wreaths of a sort of yellow steam, worthy of a yellow country, until we stopped about ten o’clock at night at Tai-Youan.

Ah! the disagreeable day.

Luckily the fog rose early in the evening.  Now it is night—­and a very dark night, too.

I go to the refreshment bar and buy a few cakes and a bottle of wine.  My intention is to pay a last visit to Kinko.  We will drink to his health, to his approaching marriage with the fair Roumanian.  He has traveled by fraud, I know, and if the Grand Transasiatic only knew!  But the Grand Transasiatic will not know.

During the stoppage Faruskiar and Ghangir are walking on the platform and looking at the train.  But it is not the van at the rear that is attracting their attention, but the van in front, and they seem to be much interested in it.

Are they suspicious of Kinko?  No! the hypothesis is unlikely.  The driver and stoker seem to be the object of their very particular attention.  They are two brave Chinamen who have just come on duty, and perhaps Faruskiar is not sorry to see men in whom he can trust, with this imperial treasure and a hundred passengers behind them!

The hour for departure strikes, and at midnight the engine begins to move, emitting two or three loud whistles.

As I have said, the night is very dark, without moon, without stars.  Long clouds are creeping across the lower zones of the atmosphere.  It will be easy for me to enter the van without being noticed.  And I have not been too liberal in my visits to Kinko during these twelve days on the road.

At this moment Popof says to me: 

“Are you not going to sleep to-night, Monsieur Bombarnac?”