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The Adventures of a Special Correspondent by Jules Verne
page 98 of 302 (32%)

This traveler was a fine-looking man of about forty, wearing gracefully
the costume of the richer Mongols, a tall fellow, with rather a gloomy
look, a military moustache, tawny complexion, and eyes that never shut.

"Here is a splendid fellow," I said to myself. "I don't know if he will
turn out the hero of the drama I am in search of, but, anyhow, I will
number him twelve in my traveling troupe."

This leading star, I soon learned from Popof, bore the name of
Faruskiar. He was accompanied by another Mongol, of inferior rank, of
about the same age, whose name was Ghangir. As they looked at the van
being attached to the tail of the train in front of the luggage van,
they exchanged a few words. As soon as the arrangements were complete
the Persians took their places in the second-class car, which preceded
the mortuary van, so as to have the precious corpse always under their
surveillance.

At this moment there was a shout on the station platform I recognized
the voice. It was the Baron Weissschnitzerdörfer shouting:

"Stop! stop!"

This time it was not a train on the start, but a hat in distress. A
sudden gust had swept through the station and borne off the baron's
hat--a helmet-shaped hat of a bluish color. It rolled on the platform,
it rolled on the rails, it skimmed the enclosure and went out over the
wall, and its owner ran his hardest to stop it.

At the sight of this wild pursuit the Caternas held their sides, the
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