"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 attaché 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 legs a bit. It has been a long trip."
Feeling cramped I fell in with Holmes's suggestion readily. However, I was never to visit the station of this Serbian city. Holmes prudently awaited the halt of the train and surveyed the platform before making a move to alight. As a result, we did not move at all, for his keen eyes noted something and he drew back from the window of our compartment quickly.
"Now that is odd," he said. "The two Chinese gentlemen have alighted from the train with their luggage. Stay away from the window, Watson. I have a good angle on them and I doubt if they can see me."
"What in heaven's name are they doing?"
"Merely collecting their luggage. Ah, they have placed it in the hands of a porter. The porter is carrying their possessions into the station, but they seem more interested in observing their fellow passengers."
"You mean they are just watching the train?"
"Unobtrusively, but that's what it amounts to. It would seem that they expect us to alight."
When the Orient Express pulled out of Nis, our Orientals were still on the platform. Holmes had some words with our attendant, whom he addressed in his impeccable French. Shortly thereafter, he learned that the Chinese gentlemen were only ticketed as far as Nis.
Holmes was as puzzled as I was. "It makes a hash of my theory, Watson."
"How so?"
"The Chinese were set upon our trail to find out what we were up to. There can be no doubt about that. However, I felt that they anticipated our going to Constantinople, hence their presence on this train. Now it would seem that they expected us to get off at Nis. What possible interest could we have in this city in lower Bosnia? Well, Watson, when something proves completely baffling, 'tis best to dismiss it till additional information presents itself.
8
In Constantinople
75
The remainder of our journey to Turkey seemed rather stale. It was as though the opposition, as I categorized the sinister Orientals, were not interested in what we might discover in Constantinople, which did not bode well for our inquiry.
Through we arrived quite late of the evening, Holmes easily secured accommodations at the Golden Horn Hotel and, though I had slept considerably during our trip, I had little difficulty in quieting my thoughts and drifting into the refreshment of unconsciousness. Holmes did not pace our suite nervously as was his frequent custom when on a case. Possibly the departure of the hatchet men had been a letdown for us both.