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Travelers will go from Pekin to the Cape of Good Hope without change of carriage." "And the Straits of Gibraltar?" asked Pan Chao. At this Sir Francis Trevellyan raised his ears. "Yes, Gibraltar?" said the major. "Go under it!" said I. "A tunnel fifteen kilometres long is a mere nothing! There will be no English Parliament to oppose it as there is to oppose that between Dover and Calais!
Such was the phrase I expected from Sir Francis Trevellyan the phrase I understand English gentlemen always use when traveling about the world. But he said nothing. But when I rose to propose a toast to the Emperor of Russia and the Russians, and the Emperor of China and the Chinese, Sir Francis Trevellyan abruptly left the table.
And none of them presented themselves. They called my lord Faruskiar a second time. Faruskiar made no response. Popof entered the car where this personage was generally to be found. It was empty. Empty? No. Sir Francis Trevellyan was calmly seated in his place, utterly indifferent to all that happened. Was it any business of his? Not at all.
As to the scornful gentleman, our guide knew nothing beyond that his luggage bore the address in full: Sir Francis Trevellyan, Trevellyan Hall, Trevellyanshire. "A gentleman who does not answer when he is spoken to!" added Popof. Well, my number eight will have to be dumb man, and that will do very well. "Now we get to the German," said I. "Baron Weissschnitzerdörfer?"
Sir Francis Trevellyan, of Trevellyan Hall, took matters very coolly, but Ephrinell abandoned himself to true Yankee fury, being no less irritated at the interruption to his marriage as to the danger run by his forty-two packages of artificial teeth. And in short, the band of robbers met with a much more serious resistance than they expected. And Baron Weissschnitzerdörfer?
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