It was a rough passage for that time of the year, and I came near being sea-sick.

A day or so in Paris brought me around, and I proceeded.

As I passed the frontier I noticed that my passports were eagerly scanned, and that I was closely scrutinized for some reason or other.
A smartly dressed officer occupied half of the carriage compartment with me.

I tried to draw him into conversation, but he proved to be untalkative; so I busied myself with the latest issue of the Paris _L'Illustration_.

I never glanced in the direction of the officer but what I found him staring intently at me.