This produces a certain amount of bustle on the platform.
I also get out and take a walk up and down by the side of the front van, and I notice the door silently open and shut.

A man creeps out on to the platform and slips away through the station, which is dimly lighted by a few petroleum lamps.
It is my Roumanian.

It can be no one else.

He has not been seen, and there he is, lost among the other travelers.

Why this escape?
Is it to renew his provisions at the refreshment bar?
On the contrary, is not his intention, as I am afraid it is, to get away from us?
Shall I stop him?
I will make myself known to him; promise to help him.
I will speak to him in French, in English, in German, in Russian--as he pleases.