Upon arriving at the office he walked to the clerk’s window and said abruptly:
“Do I look like a banana?”
The clerk raised his iron-dyed head, peered over his spectacles in a deliberate way and looked at Doctor Senn’s yellowish hunting coat and well-rounded figure.
“Well, I hadn’t noticed it. I’m a bit short sighted.”
“I thought so,” said the doctor. “Did I not apply for a stateroom for Doctor Waite and another one for myself, and did you not take the money for them?”
“I dare say you did, sir, and that I did. I always do that. The steward does the rest.”
“Then why did you not tell me that the steward transacts your business?”
“You didn’t ask me, sir. I gave your names to the steward.”
“As a sort of vocal invoice, I suppose. But Doctor Waite was put in my room and that put me out.”
“And without your having any voice in the matter, I suppose. But don’t be put out about it, doctor. It was all a mistake. The steward had your names for the rooms, but he probably thought that the words, ‘for Doctor Waite,’ meant ‘wait for doctor.’ Funny mistake, wasn’t it? He waited, and gave it to the first doctor. Doctor Waite waited too long, you know.”