He started to say something, changed his mind, said instead, “Start getting dressed, Lam,” and added, “This is an official visit, and I’m talking in my official capacity. I mean it.”
“How’d you get here)” I asked, accepting the situation and wriggling out of my pajamas.
He stood with one elbow propped against the lower part of the upper berth, looking down at me. “Airplane. There’s a car following the train. We’ll go back and—”
A man’s voice from the upper berth asked irritably, “Why don’t you get a ship-to-shore telephone?”
“Sorry,” Kleinsmidt said.
The porter moved up “Beg pand’n, ge’mmen, if you all don’t mind.”
“It’s all right,” I told him. “We’ll be quiet.”
I dressed in silence. Kleinsmidt’s big hand reached in and took my bag as I finished packing.
He led the way down to the men’s washroom. “What do you want out, Lam?” he asked.
“Toothbrush, hairbrush—”