"Vell, sir, that's me?" says Mottle-face, condescending to become aware of him at last.
"Give me a hand up with my valise—d'ye hear?"
"Walise, sir? No, sir, can't be done, sir. In the boot, sir; guard, sir."
"Boot!" cries the fussy gentleman indignantly. "I'll never trust my property in the boot!"
"Then v'y not leave it be'ind, sir, and stay vith it, or—"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the little man, growing angry. "I tell you this is valuable property. D'ye know who I am?"
"Or ye might climb into the boot along vith it, sir—"
"Do you know who I am?"
"All aboard—all aboard for London!" roared the guard, coming up at the instant.
"Valter!" cried Mottle-face.