me
soda-water. Herr Selingman's head vanished for a moment or two. When he
reappeared, he held two glasses in his hand.

"A whisky soda made in real English fashion," he proclaimed triumphantly.
"A good nightcap, is it not? Now we are off again."

Norgate held out his hand for the tumbler.

"Awfully good of you," he murmured.

"I myself," Selingman continued, seated on the edge of the bunk, with his
legs far apart to steady himself, "I myself enjoy a whisky soda. It will
be indeed a nightcap, so here goes."

He drained his glass and set it down. Norgate followed suit. Selingman's
hand came up for the tumbler and Norgate was conscious of a curious
mixture of sensations which he had once experienced before in the
dentist's chair. He could see Selingman distinctly, and he fancied that
he was watching him closely, but the rest of the carriage had become
chaos. The sound of the locomotive was beating hard upon the drums of
his ears. His head fell back.

It was broad daylight when he awoke. Selingman, fully dressed and
looking more beaming than ever, was seated upon a ridiculously
inadequate camp-stool upon the floor, smoking a cigarette. Norgate
stared at him stupidly.

"My young friend," Herr Selingman declared impressively, "if there is one
thing in the world I envy you, it is that capacity for sleep. You all
have it, you English. Your heads touch the pillow, and off you go. Do you
know that the man is waiting for you to take your coffee?"

Norgate lay quite still for several moments. Beyond a slight headache, he
was feeling as usual. He leaned over the side of the bunk.

"How many whiskies and soda did I have last night?" he asked.

Herr Selingman smiled.

"But one only," he announced. "There was only one to be had. I found a
little whisky in my flask. I remembered that I had an English travelling
companion, and I sent for some soda-water. You drank yours, and you did
sleep. I go now and sit in the corridor while you dress."

Norgate swung round in his bunk and slipped to the floor.

"Jolly good of you," he muttered sleepily, "but it was very strong
whisky."

CHAPTER V

There was a babel of voices as the long train came to a stand-still in
the harbour station at Ostend. Selingman, with characteristic
forcefulness, pushed his way down the narrow corridor, driving before him
passengers of less weight and pertinacity, until finally he descended on
to the platform itself. Norgate, who had followed m