Later on, when he had donned this attire, he marveled at the change in himself. He was confident that no living soul would be able to recognize him. And curiously enough, nature assisted him. As he sat in the train to Liverpool, the loss of his upstanding collar and stock made his open neck an easy prey to the draft. When he set foot on the deck of the steamer he had a sore throat and a cold, which made his voice so raucous that no soul would have recognized in it the clear, distinct utterance of Mr. Loide, the lawyer. His portmanteau on board, after satisfying the officer[Pg 43] in charge of his right to a berth, he at once took possession. [Pg 43] He was lying in his berth—apparently asleep—when the occupant of the other half of the cabin entered. He was lying with his face to the wall, and only his red hair was visible. That and the smart colored cutaway suit, he felt, made him as much unlike the city lawyer as well could be. He did not fear Depew's recognition. Soon after the second man entered the cabin, the vessel started. Loide knew at what hour she was expected to arrive off her one and only stopping place. During the night, it was fair to assume that no officer of the ship would come to the cabin, and during the night he would kill and rob the other man. In the early morning he would leave on the Queenstown tender. That was his scheme. He kept in his bunk. By the electric light in the cabin his companion read for some time. He could hear the rustling of the newspaper; he dared not look round. About midnight the paper was thrown down, and the listener heard the sounds of a man making ready for his berth. And presently the electric button was turned, and the cabin was in darkness.[Pg 44] [Pg 44] The lawyer's heart beat the faster then. So far all was going as well as he could wish. Darkness, and his victim recumbent, perhaps asleep. What could he wish for more? Fortune was favoring him.
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