But they had to give in to the evidence.  I had seen; I had heard; I affirmed that Faruskiar was the author of this catastrophe in which all our train might have perished, was the most consummate bandit who had ever disgraced Central Asia!

“You see, Monsieur Bombarnac,” said Major Noltitz, “that I was not mistaken in my first suspicion.”

“It is only too true,” I replied, without any false modesty, “that I was taken in by the grand manners of the abominable rascal.”

“Monsieur Claudius,” said Caterna, “put that into a romance, and see if anybody believes it likely.”

Caterna was right; but unlikely as it may seem, it was.  And, besides, I alone knew Kinko’s secret.  It certainly did seem as though it was miraculous for the locomotive to explode just on the verge of the abyss.

Now that all danger had disappeared we must take immediate measures for running back the cars on to the Pekin line.

“The best thing to do is for one of us to volunteer—­”

“I will do that,” said Caterna.

“What is he to do?” I asked.

“Go to the nearest station, that of Fuen Choo, and telegraph to Tai-Youan for them to send on a relief engine.”

“How far is it to Fuen Choo?” asked Ephrinell.

“About six kilometres to Nanking junction, and about five kilometres beyond that.”

“Eleven kilometres,” said the major; “that is a matter of an hour and a half for good walkers.  Before three o’clock the engine from Tai-Youan ought to be here.  I am ready to start.”

“So am I,” said Popof!  “I think several of us ought to go.  Who knows if we may not meet Faruskiar and his Mongols on the road?”

“You are right, Popof,” said Major Noltitz, “and we should be armed.”

This was only prudent, for the bandits who ought to be on their way to the Tjon viaduct could not be very far off.  Of course, as soon as they found that their attempt had failed, they would hasten to get away.  How would they dare—­six strong—­to attack a hundred passengers, including the Chinese guard?

Twelve of us, including Pan-Chao, Caterna, and myself, volunteered to accompany Major Noltitz.  But by common accord we advised Popof not to abandon the train, assuring him that we would do all that was necessary at Fuen Choo.

Then, armed with daggers and revolvers—­it was one o’clock in the morning—­we went along the line to the junction, walking as fast as the very dark night permitted.

In less than two hours we arrived at Fuen Choo station without adventure.  Evidently Faruskiar had cleared off.  The Chinese police would have to deal with the bandit and his accomplices.  Would they catch him?  I hoped so, but I doubted.

At the station Pan-Chao explained matters to the stationmaster, who telegraphed for an engine to be sent from Tai-Youan to the Nanking line.

At three o’clock, just at daybreak, we returned to wait for the engine at the junction.  Three-quarters of an hour afterwards its whistle announced its approach, and it stopped at the bifurcation of the lines.  We climbed up on to the tender, and half an hour later had rejoined the train.