I thought of the famous Ki-Tsang, the Mongol pirate, whose help I had so imprudently called upon--for my chronicle.
In a moment the train began to slow, evidently preparing to stop.
Popof came into the van, and I asked him what had happened.
"An accident," he replied.
"Serious ?" "No, a coupling has broken, and the two last vans are left behind." As soon as the train pulls up, a dozen travelers, of whom I am one, get out onto the track.
By the light of the lantern it is easy to see that the breakage is not due to malevolence.

But it is none the less true that the two last vans, the mortuary van and the rear van occupied by the goods guard, are missing.

How far off are they?
Nobody knows.
You should have heard the shouts of the Persian guards engaged in escorting the remains of Yen Lou, for which they were responsible! The travelers in their van, like themselves, had not noticed when the coupling broke.

It might be an hour, two hours, since the accident.
What ought to be done was clear enough.

The train must be run backward and pick up the lost vans.
Nothing could be more simple.