“Lunch together!” gasped Hephzy. “Why, Mr. Campbell! the 'Princess Eulalie' sails at noon. You said so yourself!”
Jim smiled. “I know I did,” he replied, “but that is immaterial. You are not concerned with the 'Princess Eulalie.' Your passages are booked on the 'Plutonia' and she doesn't leave her dock until one o'clock to-morrow morning. We will meet here for lunch at twelve-thirty. Come, Kent.”
I didn't attempt an answer. I am not exactly sure what I did. A few minutes later I walked out of that room with Campbell and I have a hazy recollection of leaving Hephzy seated in the rocker and of hearing her voice, as the door closed, repeating over and over:
“The 'Plutonia'! My soul and body! The 'Plutonia'! Me—ME on the 'Plutonia'!”
What I said and did afterwards doesn't make much difference. I know I called my publisher a number of disrespectful names not one of which he deserved.
“Confound you!” I cried. “You know I wouldn't have dreamed of taking a passage on a ship like that. She's a floating Waldorf, everyone says so. Dress and swagger society and—Oh, you idiot! I wanted quiet! I wanted to be alone! I wanted—”
Jim interrupted me.
“I know you did,” he said. “But you're not going to have them. You've been alone too much. You need a change. If I know the 'Plutonia'—and I've crossed on her four times—you're going to have it.”
He burst into a roar of laughter. We were in a cab, fortunately, or his behavior would have attracted attention. I could have choked him.
“You imbecile!” I cried. “I have a good mind to throw the whole thing up and go home to Bayport. By George, I will!”