The porter still stared straight before him with lack-lustre eyes, and
made no immediate reply.

"Are you drunk? are you--Can it be possible?" he said, and in vague
reply to a sudden strong suspicion, he went on:

"What were you doing between Laroche and Paris? Sleeping?"

The man roused himself a little. "I think I slept. I must have slept. I
was very drowsy. I had been up two nights; but so it is always, and I am
not like this generally. I do not understand."

"Hah!" The Chief thought he understood. "Did you feel this drowsiness
before leaving Laroche?"

"No, monsieur, I did not. Certainly not. I was fresh till then--quite
fresh."

"Hum; exactly; I see;" and the little Chief jumped to his feet and ran
round to where the porter stood sheepishly, and sniffed and smelt at
him.

"Yes, yes." Sniff, sniff, sniff, the little man danced round and round
him, then took hold of the porter's head with one hand, and with the
other turned down his lower eyelid so as to expose the eyeball, sniffed
a little more, and then resumed his seat.

"Exactly. And now, where is your train card?"