"Thanks, I'm sure," he murmured stiffly. He was a slight young man with a monocle and mutton-chops.
"It's very good of you," he added after a pause, with more condescension. "Awfully awkward to be without one's luggage, for I have a service in Montreal to-morrow, and all my vestments are in my box. I fear I shall miss my train."
"Oh, I guess not!" replied the baggage-man encouragingly. "I'll be with you presently. You come in and look around yourself, and if you don't see it I'll help you. This way, sir," and he lifted a section of the counter and allowed the clergyman to pass in.
"My! Ain't he clever!" whispered Barney delightedly.
The clergyman now began a rather dilatory investigation of the contents of the baggage-room, bending over and examining every trunk in sight, and even tapping the one in which they were ensconced with the silver head of his umbrella, but after a few moments, in apparent despair, he took his stand beside the big trunk marked "B. C. L.," and gazed despondently about him. There was nothing in his appearance to suggest that he was other than he seemed, but Barney directed McAllister's attention to the copy of The Churchman, from the leaves of which protruded two diminutive pieces of string, put there, as it might appear, for a book-mark. And now as the Anglican shifted from one foot to the other, ostensibly waiting for the porter, he placed his hands behind him and took a step or two backward toward the big trunk. Chubby was by this time all agog. What would the fellow do? He certainly couldn't be goin' to shoulder the trunk and try to walk off with it!
Suddenly McAllister saw the daintily gloved hands slip a penknife from among the leaves of the magazine and quickly sever the check from the handle of the trunk. The Anglican altered his position and waited until the baggage-man was once more engaged at the other end of the counter. Again this amiable representative of the cloth shuffled backward until the handle was within easy reach, and with a dexterity which must have been born of long practice deftly tied the two ends of string around it. With a quick motion he stepped away in the direction of the counter, and out from the leaves of The Churchman fell and dangled a new check stamped "Waistcoat's Express, No. 1467."
"My good fellow," impatiently drawled the clergyman, approaching the baggage-man, "I really can't wait, don'cher know. I've looked everywhere, and my box isn't here. I don't know whether to blame that beastly luggage-man, or whether it's the fault of this disgustin' American railroad. It's evident someone's at fault, and as I assume that you are in charge I shall report you immediately."
Deftly tied the two ends of string around it.