l the time."

Soon the train began to lift into the mountains, the beautiful
Apennines, and Merrihew counted so many tunnels he concluded that this
was where the inventor of the cinematograph got his idea. Just as some
magnificent valley began to unfold, with a roar the train dashed into a
dank, sooty tunnel. One could neither read nor enjoy the scenery;
nothing to do but sit tight and wait, let the window down when they
passed a tunnel, lift it when they entered one. By the time they arrived
in Genoa, late at night, both compared favorably with the coalers in the
harbor of Naples.

The English and American tourists have done much toward making Italy a
soap-and-water tolerating country (loving would be misapplied). But in
Italy the State owns the railroads. There is water (of a kind), but
never soap or towels.

Early the next morning the adventurers set out for Monte Carlo, taking
only their hand-luggage. More tunnels. A compartment filled with women
and children. And hot besides. But the incomparable beauty of the
Riviera was a compensation. Ventimiglia, or Vintimille, has a sinister
sound in the ears of the traveler, if perchance he be a man fond of his
tobacco. A turbulent stream cuts the town in two. On the east side
stands a gloomy barn of a station; on the other side one of the most
picturesque walled towns in Europe, and of Roman antiquity. The train
drew in. A dozen steps more, and one was virtually in France. But there
is generally a slight hitch before one takes the aforesaid steps: the
French customs. A _facchino_ popped his head into the window.

"Eight minutes for examination of luggage!" he cried.

Re held out his arms, and Hillard piled the luggage upon him.

"Come, Dan; lively, if we want good seats when we come out. We change
trains."

The two men followed the porter to the ticket entrance, surrendered
their coupons, and passed into the customs. The porter had to go round
another way. After a short skirmish they located their belongings, which
unfortunately were far down toward the end of the barrier. They would
have to be patient. Hillard held in his hands his return coupons to
Genoa. Sometimes this helps at the frontier; and if one has a steamer
ticket, better still. Inspectors then understand that one is to be but a
transient guest.

Among the inspectors at Ventimiglia is a small, wizened Frenchman, with
a face as cold and impassive as the sand-blown Sphinx. He possesses
among other accompl