Then Mr. Townsend rose in haste, and, seizing Grit's bundle instead of his own, hurried toward the door.
Grit sprang after him and snatched the precious package.
"You have made a mistake, Mr. Townsend," he said, eyeing his late seat companion with distrust.
"Why, so I have!" ejaculated Townsend, in apparent surprise. "By Jove! it's lucky you noticed it. That little satchel of mine contains some papers and certificates of great value."
"In that case I would advise you to be more careful," said Grit, who did not believe one word of the last statement.
"So I will," said Townsend, taking the satchel. "I am going into the smoking-car. Won't you go with me?"
"No, thank you."
"I have a spare cigar," urged Townsend.
"Thank you again, but I don't smoke."
"Oh, well, you're right, no doubt, but it's an old habit of mine. I began to smoke when I was twelve years old. My wife often tells me I am injuring my health, and perhaps I am. Take the advice of a man old enough to be your father, and don't smoke."