"You nuts?" The thick-necked man stared at Retief. "I said it's Mr. Tony's room."
"I don't know Mr. Tony. He'll have to bull his way into other quarters."
"We'll see about you, mister." The man turned and went out. Retief sat on the bunk and lit a cigar. There was a sound of voices in the corridor. Two burly baggage-smashers appeared, straining at an oversized trunk. They maneuvered it through the door, lowered it, glanced at Retief and went out. The thick-necked man returned.
"All right, you. Out," he growled. "Or have I got to have you thrown out?"
Retief rose and clamped the cigar between his teeth. He gripped a handle of the brass-bound trunk in each hand, bent his knees and heaved the trunk up to chest level, then raised it overhead. He turned to the door.
"Catch," he said between clenched teeth. The trunk slammed against the far wall of the corridor and burst.
Retief turned to the baggage on the floor, tossed it into the hall. The face of the thick-necked man appeared cautiously around the door jamb.
"Mister, you must be—"
"If you'll excuse me," Retief said, "I want to catch a nap." He flipped the door shut, pulled off his shoes and stretched out on the bed.