“I haven’t seen it.”
“I remember now. It was put with the luggage of the other passenger. I will show it to you.”
He took Dodger to a part of the ship where freight was stored, and pointed to a sizable valise with a card attached to it on which was inscribed the name: “Arthur Grant.”
“This must be yours,” he said.
“Yes, I suppose so,” answered Dodger, glad to have found out the new name which had been given him, otherwise he would have supposed the valise belonged to some other person.
He took the valise to his stateroom, and, finding a key tied to the handles, he opened it at once.
It proved to contain a very fair supply of underclothing, socks, handkerchiefs, etc., with a tooth brush, a hair brush and comb, and a sponge. Never in his life had Dodger been so well supplied with clothing before. There were four white shirts, two tennis shirts, half a dozen handkerchiefs and the same number of socks, with three changes of underclothing.
“I begin to feel like a gentleman,” said Dodger to himself, complacently.
That was not all. At the bottom of the valise was an envelope, sealed, on which was inscribed the name: “Dodger.”
“That is for me, at any rate,” thought our hero. “I suppose it is from Curtis Waring.”