Do not think that there are no hotels. Among others there is the Hôtel
du Czar, which has a good table, good rooms and good beds. But the
question of beds has no interest for me. As the train starts at four
o'clock this afternoon, to begin with, I must telegraph to the
_Twentieth Century,_ by the Caspian cable, that I am at my post at the
Uzun Ada station. That done, I can see if I can pick up anything worth
reporting.

Nothing is more simple. It consists in opening an account with those of
my companions with whom I may have to do during the journey. That is my
custom, I always find it answers, and while waiting for the unknown, I
write down the known in my pocketbook, with a number to distinguish
each:

1. Fulk Ephrinell, American.
2. Miss Horatia Bluett, English.
3. Major Noltitz, Russian.
4. Monsieur Caterna, French.
5. Madame Caterna, French.
6. Baron Weissschnitzerdörfer, German.

As to the Chinese, they will have a number later on, when I have made
up my mind about them. As to the individual in the box, I intend to
enter into communication with him, or her, and to be of assistance in
that quarter if I can do so without betraying the secret.

The train is already marshaled in the station. It is composed of first
and second-class cars, a restaurant car and two baggage vans. These
cars are painted of a light color, an excellent precaution against the