"You will find it lonesome on the passage," he said.
"I'll manage all right," I replied, not quite rid of my asperity over their lack of decision about taking a passenger.
"We have already sold one ticket," continued the clerk, as he put down figures on a pad. He glanced at me with a quizzical expression, and then smiled.
"One passenger will help," I commented, for something better to say.
"If he doesn't talk an arm off you before you reach Hong-Kong, I'll give you the ticket for sixpence. He's a missionary," he grinned.
"The Rev. Luther Meeker!" I cried in horror.
"The Rev. Luther Meeker!" he repeated, and gave me my change with a chuckle.
Naturally, I was astonished to discover that Meeker was to be a passenger with me in the Kut Sang, but I was out in the street again before it dawned upon me that the situation was more than a mere coincidence. The missionary had lied to me when he said he had been refused passage, he had misled me when he said it was impossible to buy a ticket in the Kut Sang, and I could make nothing of it all but that he did not want me to know he was sailing in the vessel, and that he did not want me to go in her.
The idea that he would interfere with my plans and delay me for a week simply because he objected to my presence in the same steamer with him filled me with wrath. I so lost my temper for a minute that I was bent on going back to the hotel and knocking him down, missionary or no missionary; but, instead, came to the conclusion that the joke was on him, and I would have plenty of opportunities to retaliate upon him between Manila and Hong-Kong.
Before I got into my quilez my ire was roused again at the sight of the red-headed beggar lounging in a doorway across the street, obviously watching me. It was plain enough that Meeker had sent him to spy upon me and learn if I went to the steamship office. The little beggar saw me looking at him and dodged into a doorway, but fled when he saw me start after him.