Vine and Olive by Oliver Optic

Bill Stout indulged in some very severe reflections upon the conduct of his fellow–conspirator when he found that he was alone in the compartment where he had spent the night. The porter who woke him told him very respectfully (he was a first–class passenger), in good Spanish for a man in his position, that the train was to be run out of the station. Bill couldn't understand him, but he left the car.

"Where are the fellows that came with me? " he asked, turning to the porter; but the man shook his head, and smiled as blandly as though the runaway had given him a _peseta_.