o, like
Consul Denniston, were in a position to know the truth.

The consul had told him to come back for dinner at six o'clock, and so
Dick had a good deal of time to kill. He determined, therefore, to go
across to Belgrade and see if there was a message there yet from the
Abercrombies, the family with which he had traveled as far as
Buda-Pesth. He was to engage rooms for them when they wrote or
telegraphed to him that they were ready for him to do so, and he decided
that he might as well see if the message had come, though he was pretty
sure that there had not been time yet.

To his surprise, he found some difficulty in passing the guards at the
centre of the bridge. Luck favored him, however. One of the soldiers was
a Hungarian who had been a waiter at a famous Hungarian restaurant in
New York, and had returned to serve his term with the army. When he
heard Dick say that he was an American, he offered to question him, and
began to ask Dick about New York.

"He's all right. He knows all the places I know!" said the soldier,
after that.

And so Dick was able to proceed. In Belgrade, inquiring at the bank the
Abercrombies had named, he found a message, but not the sort of message
he had been looking for.

"We are going to London as fast as we can get there," ran the message.
"Should advise you to do the same. Situation looks very serious."

There had been more in the original message, for the blank was plainly
marked "Censored." Dick was indignant at the idea that anyone should
interfere with a telegram sent by as distinguished an American as Judge
Abercrombie, but, after all, he decided there was no one here to blame.
The censoring had been done at Buda-Pesth in all probability. And the
essential fact was there. He was a good deal disappointed, for he had
rather hoped that Judge Abercrombie might be able to help him in his
dealings with Mike Hallo. However, there was no help for it.

So, having nothing else to do now, he spent a part of the afternoon in
wandering about Belgrade, and making himself familiar with the strange
old town. The older part of the city he found to be much more romantic
when viewed from Semlin. At close quarters it was incredibly dirty, and
the houses were rabbit warrens, inhabited by a wretched mixture of Turks
and mixed breeds. He managed to learn there were not so many Servians;
for Servians are not fond of living in towns. They are farmers and
herders, and by choice they live in the o