He is good-looking, although his face denotes great energy of character, and he must be energetic to have shut himself up in a box like this for such a long journey.

But if he has nothing of the malefactor about him, I must confess that he does not look like the hero I am in search of as the chief personage in my story.
After all, they were not heroes, that Austrian and that Spaniard who traveled in their packing cases.

They were young men, very simple, very ordinary, and yet they yielded columns of copy.

And so this brave No.
11, with amplifications, antonyms, diaphoreses, epitases, tropes, metaphors, and other figures of that sort, I will beat out, I will enlarge, I will develop--as they develop a photographic negative.
Besides to travel in a box from Tiflis to Pekin is quite another affair than traveling from Vienna or Barcelona to Paris, as was done by Zeitung, Erres and Flora Anglora.
I add that I will not betray my Roumanian; I will report him to no one.
He may rely on my discretion; he may reckon on my good offices if I can be of use to him when he is found out.
But what is he doing now?
Well, he is seated on the bottom of his case and placidly eating his supper by the light of a little lamp.

A box of preserves is on his knee, biscuit is not wanting, and in a little cupboard I notice some full bottles, besides a rug and overcoat hooked up on the wall.
Evidently No.