Each moment I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness, but all was dark.

The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud.

We could see now the sandy road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle.
The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment.

I was already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone, I thought it was "An hour less than the time." Then turning to me, he spoke in German worse than my own.
"There is no carriage here.

The Herr is not expected after all.