"Are you very tired?" he asked, gently, after a long pause. "I think the train will not be very long now."
Even as he spoke, clang, clang, went the bell, and for the second time that day I went toward the train for Elberthal. This time no wrong turning, no mistake. Courvoisier put me into an empty compartment, and followed me, said something to a guard who went past, of which I could only distinguish the word _allein_; but as no one disturbed our privacy, I concluded that German railway guards, like English ones, are mortal.
After debating within myself for some time, I screwed up my courage and began:
"Mr. Courvoisier--your name is Courvoisier, is it not?"
"Will you please tell me how much money you have spent for me to-day?"
"How much money?" he asked, looking at me with a provoking smile.
The train was rumbling slowly along, the night darkening down. We sat by an open window, and I looked through it at the gray, Dutch-like landscape, the falling dusk, the poplars that seemed sedately marching along with us.
"Why do you want to know how much?" he demanded.
"Because I shall want to pay you, of course, when I get my purse," said I. "And if you will kindly tell me your address, too--but how much money did you spend?"
He looked at me, seemed about to laugh off the question, and then said:
"I believe it was about three thalers ten groschen, but I am not at all sure. I can not tell till I do my accounts."
"Suppose I let you know how much it was," he went on, with a gravity which forced conviction upon me.
"Perhaps that would be the best," I agreed. "But I hope you will make out your accounts soon."
"Oh, very soon. And where shall I send my bill to?"
Feeling as if there were something not quite as it should be in the whole proceeding, I looked very earnestly at him, but could find nothing but the most perfect gravity in his expression. I repeated my address and name slowly and distinctly, as befitted so business-like a transaction, and he wrote them down in a little book.
"And you will not forget," said I, "to give me your address when you let me know what I owe you."
"Certainly--when I let you know what you owe me," he replied, putting the little book into his pocket again.
"I wonder if any one will come to meet me," I speculated, my mind more at ease in consequence of the business-like demeanor of my companion.