I left the train and found myself on the platform of an ill-lighted station, in company with a large number of my fellow-passengers, who seemed to have entirely monopolised the few available porters. With some difficulty, I carried my two suit cases for a little distance, intending to leave them in a waiting-room while I went in search of the officials necessary to trace the missing trunk.
I pushed my way along the platform until I saw a notice “Chef de Gare” above a small, brightly lit office. There I was received by a magnificent functionary with a gold-braided cap, who told me that I must wait until the mails had been removed from the train.
“But not in here,” he added, seeing that I was about to sit down on the only vacant chair; “this is the office of the stationmaster”—from which I
