"Is anything wrong? Your note—it said that you might make the train——"
Dennis took from her hand a folded note and glanced at it. Then he thrust it into his pocket and patted her shoulder.
"I'll be along presently, dear. No, nothing wrong! I have some good news for you, too—got some assignments out West. I'll meet you in a few minutes."
Leaving his grip and a coin with the porter, Tom Dennis rushed forward. When he gained the compartment-car, he consulted Dumont's tickets and found that the latter had engaged Compartment Six. Dennis went directly to this compartment and knocked. The voice of Ericksen bade him enter. He threw open the door and stepped inside the little room.
"Well!" Dennis closed the door behind him and stood, smiling. "Expecting your friend, are you? He's not coming, Boatswain Joe."
There was no doubt about it; Ericksen was hard hit. He stared at Dennis, his mouth agape, his light-blue eyes wide-set.
"Strike me blind," he affirmed, huskily, "if it ain't you!"
"You win. What are you doing in this compartment?"
"Who—me? Why, matey, I was lookin' for the skipper of this here train, and I pops in here for a bit of a smoke, out of the way and quiet! And where might you have come from, matey? I thought you weren't coming along, this cruise."
"What made you think that?" demanded Dennis.