“'If it's a sure Hannah Atkins, that's what I'm asking,' I says. 'I guess Beteta ain't even an amateur on mummies, and he's skeered of conversation with you. I guess you're right there.'
“We packed Hannah Atkins, and toward five o'clock I shouldered the box. Some populace saw us come from the patio and followed us to the station, wondering what a caballero, with a cane and a buttonhole bouquet, and a box four foot long on his shoulder, and a amiable large party in a white vest behind him, was doing with that there combination of circumstances. So we caught the train and started for Portate. There was another man I used to know on the train. He was a Scotch engineer in the employ of The Transport Company and named Jamison.”
CHAPTER XXIX—MR. JAMISON
SADLER paused. I knew Jamison too.
“What was Jamison coming to Por-tate for?” I asked. “Did he say?”
“He did,” said Sadler. “His conversation was meaty. I'm makin' a dramatic pause.”
Then he paused some more.
“I don't think much of that birthday present!” said Susannah, scornfully.