As the vessel swung round a bend of the Mersey out of sight, he murmured flippantly:
"Next stop—Jamaica!"
T. B. reached his chambers at noon that day. He stopped to ask a question of the porter.
"Yes, sir," said that worthy, "he arrived all right with your card last night. I made him comfortable for the night, got him some supper, and told my mate who is on duty at night to look after him."
T. B. nodded. Declining the lift-boy's services, he mounted the marble stairs.
He reached the door of his flat and inserted the key.
"Now for Mr. Hyatt," he thought, and opened the door.
There was a little hallway to his chambers, in which the electric light still burned, in spite of the flood of sunlight that came from a long window at the end.
"Extravagant beggar!" muttered T. B.
The dining-room was empty, and the blinds were drawn, and here, too, the electric light was full on. There was a spare bedroom to the left, and to this T. B. made his way.