I feel that he seeks a support.

He understands he can depend on me.

And he murmurs: "Do not betray me--do not betray me." "Betray you, my boy?
Did not the French newspapers sympathize with that little Austrian tailor, with those two Spanish sweethearts, who sent themselves by train in the way you are doing?
Were not subscriptions opened in their favor?
And can you believe that I, a journalist--" "You are a journalist ?" "Claudius Bombarnac, special correspondent of the _Twentieth Century."_ "A French journal--" "Yes, I tell you." "And you are going to Pekin ?" "Through to Pekin." "Ah! Monsieur Bombarnac, Providence has sent you onto my road." "No, it was the managers of my journal, and they delegated to me the powers they hold from Providence, courage and confidence.

Anything I can do for you I will." "Thanks, thanks." "What is your name ?" "Kinko." "Kinko?
Excellent name!" "Excellent ?" "For my articles! You are a Roumanian, are you not ?" "Roumanian of Bucharest." "But you have lived in France ?" "Four years in Paris, where I was apprentice to an upholsterer in the Faubourg Saint Antoine." "And you went back to Bucharest ?" "Yes, to work at my trade there until the day came when it was impossible for me to resist the desire to leave--" "To leave?
Why ?" "To marry!" "To marry--Mademoiselle Zinca--" "Zinca ?" "Yes, Mademoiselle Zinca Klork, Avenue Cha-Coua, Pekin, China!" "You know ?" "Certainly.

The address is on the box." "True." "As to Mademoiselle Zinca Klork--" "She is a young Roumanian.