Pearson’s room was on the third flight, at the front of the house. Through the window one saw the upper half of the buildings opposite, and above them a stretch of sky. The bed was a small brass and iron affair, but the rest of the furniture was of good quality, the chairs were easy and comfortable, and the walls were thickly hung with photographs, framed drawings, and prints.
“I put those up to cover the wall paper,” explained the host. “I don’t offer them as an art collection, but as a screen. Sit down. Put your coat on the bed. Shall I close the window? I usually keep the upper half open to let out the pipe smoke. Otherwise I might not be able to navigate without fog signals.”
His visitor chuckled, followed directions with his coat and hat, and sat down. Pearson took the chair by the small flat-topped desk.
“How about that window?” he asked. “Shall I shut it?”
“No, no! We’ll be warm enough, I guess. You’ve got steam heat, I see.”
“You mean you hear. Those pipes make noise enough to wake the dead. At first I thought I couldn’t sleep because of the racket they made. Now I doubt if I could without it. Would you consider a cigar, Captain?”
“Hum! I don’t usually stop to consider. But I tell you, Jim—just now you said something about a pipe. I’ve got mine aboard, but I ain’t dared to smoke it since I left South Denboro. If you wouldn’t mind—”
“Not a bit. Tobacco in this jar on the desk. I keep a temporary supply in my jacket pocket. Matches? Here you are! What do you think of my—er—stateroom?”
“Think it makes nice, snug quarters,” was the prompt answer.
“Humph! Snug is a good word. Much like living in an omnibus, but it answers the purpose. I furnished it myself, except for the bed. The original bureau had pictures of cauliflowers painted on each drawer front. Mrs. Hepton—my landlady—was convinced that they were roses. I told her she might be right, but, at all events, looking at them made me hungry. Perhaps she noticed the effect on my appetite and was willing for me to substitute.”