taken him at his word. With hurried farewells, we were ushered downstairs and into the private carriage of the police chief which whisked us to the Zoological Gardens Station. Our luggage was on the platform along with two of Von Shalloway's taciturn mechanical men who made themselves known to Holmes, handed him our tickets, arid saw that we had a compartment to ourselves when the Stuttgart Special came to a brief stop. As soon as we were aboard, the train puffed into motion after its unscheduled stop. High, dirty red chimneys ambled past the windows to be replaced soon by great houses and gay gardens as we departed from greater Berlin.
As we passed through Luckenwald, Holmes and I felt in need of sustenance and made our way to the dining car, where I did quite well with the menu, washing the rich food down with most excellent German beer. Evidently, our travels plus a substantial meal made sleep easy for Holmes informed me that we were beyond Wurzburg when I awakened in our compartment, slightly fuzzy-headed. The situation was agreeable to me since our journey through Anhalt and into Hesse provided no sights that I wished to view.
Things did get more interesting at this point since the Special progressed westerly to stop at Heidelberg. Though darkness was falling, I was able to view the beautiful approach of the 'Jewel of the Nekar' and caught a glimpse of the spectacular fourteenth-century castle on the hill of this famous university city. From there, it was but a short run to Stuttgart, where again we were met by emissaries of the German police and escorted aboard the famed Orient Express.
I noted, when we were comfortably ensconced in a lavish compartment, that the attendant on our car was observant of our every wish. I later learned that this most posh of European trains had been delayed for fifteen minutes in its departure from Stuttgart to await our arrival. The French attendant, must have thought we were Krupp munitions tycoons or possibly members of the Hohenzollern family!
Neither Holmes nor myself felt hungry and I made haste to take advantage of our most comfortable berths.
The rattle and click of the rails, the gentle sway of the great train as it hurtled through the night, made sleep easy. I remember thinking that sharing the adventures of the supreme sleuth did lead to hectic situations, precipitous departures, and a series of events far removed from the normal existence of a general practitioner. However, apart from the matchless experiences, there was certainly the advantage of traveling in style when travel we did. And it all began with those famous words: 'You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.' That was my last thought before the coming of day.
It was Holmes who awakened me the following morning and, my mind clouded with sleep, I was not conscious of the fact that his expression was grave.
'Where are we?' I mumbled.
'Zagreb,' he stated. 'We have company again.'
Struggling upright in my berth, I gazed at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. 'Not the Chinese?'
Holmes nodded. 'I took a brief walk along the station platform when we arrived and spied them in the dining car.'
'But how could they have followed us from Berlin?'
'They couldn't. I can only assume that they anticipated my next move—a visit to the art dealer, Hassim, in Constantinople. No other explanation is possible.'
'What are we to do?'
'Act as though nothing has happened. Get into your things, ol' fellow, and we shall breakfast. If our Oriental friends are still in the dining car, so much the better.
As I struggled into my clothes with all possible speed, Holmes had a cautionary thought. 'For all they know, we never saw them in Berlin or even suspect that they are on our heels. Therefore, don't stare at them as though they were international spies. Just ignore them completely and allow me to take care of the surreptitious observation.'
On occasion, Holmes could be infuriatingly patronizing and I implied as much with a swift rejoinder.
'Really, Holmes, we have been through situations like this before. You infer that I am a rank beginner in matters of this sort.'
His eyes softened in his disarming manner and a smile with a touch of sentiment curved his thin lips. 'Perish the thought, my good fellow. Just remember that subtlety has never been one of your strongest points.'
Thoroughly silenced, I followed Holmes from our compartment.
In the dining car, I deliberately avoided looking at any fellow passengers. My friend made casual small talk and selected a table that afforded him a view of the Orientals, whom I had spotted on our arrival. I ordered rather mechanically and applied myself to the passing countryside. We were well out of Zagreb and passing through the mountainous terrain of northern Serbia with frequent breathtaking views as the great train roared in a southeasterly path. My answers to Holmes's casual conversation were monosyllabic until I realized that some sham on my part might serve the purpose of allowing his eyes to stray to good purpose. Somehow I began to recount a cricket match and I'm sure my description made little sense, but then no one was listening to our conversation anyway.
Midway through our meal, I was conscious of two men passing our table. Their figures were briefly reflected in the window at my side and I realized it was the Chinese. No doubt my eyes widened for my friend's voice came to my rescue before I made some foolish reaction.
'Gently, gently, ol' chap. They are almost gone and we can dispense with deception, so onerous to you. But do have a quick glance as they leave the car. Our expedition has not been fruitless.'
I looked in the direction of the departing men with what I hoped was a casual air. Even to my eyes, not noted for acute observation, an incongruous situation was evident.
'Why, they are each carrying what looks like small attache cases. Whatever for?'
'Tradition, among other things.' Holmes's words were delivered in a casual manner, but his next revelation had a jarring effect. 'I have tended to consider our shadows almost in a humorous vein. I may well have underestimated the situation. Those cases they carry are never out of their reach, if they can help it. To one with training in criminology they pinpoint our secretive escorts as hatchet men.'
My jaw must have dropped and Holmes continued with a merry smile to calm me. 'A hatchet man is a most respected professional in the Oriental world. An efficient killer usually representing a Tong or faction. In our mechanical age, their methods may seem antiquated but let me assure you that their traditional weapon, plus their skill at throwing it, rivals the effectiveness of a soft-nosed bullet at fairly close range.'
When we returned to our compartment, I made haste to open my valise and extract the Eley .320, which I had chosen to take on this trip because of its convenient size. I vowed to have it on my person till this confounded case was resolved.
Our quarters had been serviced by the train attendant but Holmes assured me that our luggage had not been touched. He made a habit of leaving little tell-tale signs that would alert him if hands other than ours had been tampering with our belongings.
Under different conditions I would have enjoyed our trip down the eastern length of Serbia, but the specter of two Chinese assassins lurking on the train had a depressing effect. Between glances at the door to our compartment, I tried to lose myself in the passing scenery, to little avail. Conversation with Holmes was nonproductive simply because he had no clear idea of what he might learn in Constantinople and I was already privy to as much information regarding our quest for the Golden Bird as he was.
We were across the Danube and in Belgrade before noon. Holmes and I decided to remain in our compartment so the only glimpse I got of the ancient city was the marriage of narrow Turkish streets and nineteenth-century palaces with a heavy larding of Byzantine architecture as we arrived and departed.
As the Express ran down the hundred miles or so between Belgrade and Nis, Holmes was either deep in thought or asleep. I could not determine which. It crossed my mind that to the west on the Adriatic was Montenegro, certainly a familiar area to my friend. I had always entertained the thought that during his absence from London, following the Reichenbach Falls episode and the end of Moriarty, that he had spent some time in this district; but I had never been able to entice the information from him and now certainly was not an appropriate tune. Instead, I grimly clutched the butt of the Eley in my pocket and determined to guard the bastions should Holmes, indeed, be in the arms of Morpheus.
But, alas, it was I that courted sleep and when my head jerked erect found Holmes regarding me humorously.
'No danger, old friend. We are approaching Nis and are on the final leg of our journey. We might stretch our
