"Please."

"Right, sir."

A few minutes later the cab stopped and he was alighting at the passenger agents' door. Entering, he said to the counter clerk:

"You are booking for La Mascotte, leaving for the Mediterranean, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir; we're the agents."

"Have you any berths left?"

"Oh, yes, sir, a number. It's an off time of the year, and we do not fill up from London. We are stopping at coast stations. We shall fill up from those."

"Let me see a plan of the ship."

"Yes, sir.... That's it. Which class—which part of the boat do you want, sir?"

Masters ignored the question. Pointing to the pen and ink list of names, inquired: