this infernal contraption. A few moments ago I saw it, assumed it must be mine, quite naturally claimed it, and was properly called down in the politest, most crushing way imaginable. Hence this headache.”

[Pg 33]

“So!” said Mr. Iff. “So that is why he doesn’t love his dear little bandbox!... A Miss Earle, I think you said?”

“No—Searle. At least, that was the name on her luggage.”

“Oh—Searle, eh?”

“You don’t happen to know her, by any chance?” Staff demanded, not without a trace of animation.

“Who? Me? Nothing like that,” Iff disclaimed hastily.

“I just thought you might,” said Staff, disappointed.

For some moments the conversation languished. Then Staff rose and pressed the call-button.[Pg 34]

[Pg 34]

“What’s up?” asked Iff.

“Going to get rid of this,” said Staff with an air of grim determination.

“Just what I was going to suggest. But don’t do anything hasty—anything you’ll be sorry for.”

“Leave that to me, please.”

From his tone the assumption was not unwarrantable that Staff had never yet done anything that he had subsequently found cause to regret. Pensively punishing an inoffensive wrist, Iff subsided.

A steward showed himself in the doorway.

“You rang, sir?”

“Are you our steward?” asked Staff.

“Yes, sir.”

“Your name?”

 Prev. P 22/192 next