him. Haste was imperative. After receiving notification from the company
that the cabin was being held, he had only an hour and a half in which to
catch the express that would bring him to Havre at about twelve o'clock.
From Havre he crossed to Southampton, spending the night in a bunk in
one of those wretched saloons in which a number of persons are herded
together. But he managed to sleep the whole time, and the crossing went
without incident.

At dawn he was on deck watching England's ghostly coast-line draw nearer
and nearer, until finally the steamer entered the port of Southampton,
where he was to await the _Roland_.

At the steamship office, he was told that the _Roland_ would scarcely
make Southampton before evening, and at seven o'clock a tender would be
at the pier to convey the passengers to the ship as soon as it was
sighted. That meant twelve idle hours in a dreary foreign town, with the
thermometer at ten degrees below freezing-point. Frederick decided to
take a room in a hotel, and, if possible, pass some of the time in sleep.

In a shop window he saw a display of cigarettes of the brand of Simon
Arzt of Port Said. He entered the shop, which a maid was sweeping, and
bought several hundred. It was an act dictated by sentiment rather than
by a desire for enjoyment. The cigarettes of Simon Arzt of Port Said were
excellent, the best he had ever smoked; but the significance they had
acquired for him was not due to any intrinsic virtue of theirs.

He carried an alligator portfolio in his waistcoat pocket. In that
portfolio, among other things, was a letter he had received the very day
he left Paris: