“Oh, I knew what you meant, sir,” said the steward. “It's where your traps are, sir? I—I thought it a bit strange you didn't have anything with you when you came aboard this afternoon.”
“Did you, now?” inquired Crang sweetly. “Well, then, the sooner you get them here the less strange it will seem. Beat it!”
“But where are they, sir?” persisted the man. “Where are they? Good God, how do I know!” ejaculated Crang sarcastically. “I sent them down to the ship early this morning to be put aboard—in your baggage room. You've got a baggage room aboard, haven't you?”
“Yes, sir; but——”
“I would suggest the baggage room, then!” interrupted Crang crisply. “And if they are not there, ask the captain to let you have any of the crew who aren't too busy on this engine trouble, and get them to help you search the ship!”
The steward grinned.
“Very good, sir. Would you mind describing the pieces?”
“There are four,” said Crang with exaggerated patience, as he created the non-existent baggage out of his imagination. “And they have all got your 'wanted on the voyage' labels, with my name and cabin written on them—Mr. John Bruce; Cabin H-14. There is a steamer trunk, and two brown alligator-leather—which I do not guarantee to be genuine in spite of the price—suit-cases, and a hat box.”
“Very good, sir,” said the steward again—and hurried from the cabin.
Crang got up and went to the window. The tug alongside seemed to furnish him with engrossing reflections, for he stood there, smiling queerly, until he swung around in answer to a knock upon his door.