“Oh, very well,” returned Iff, with resignation. “What would you like to know?”
“Why did you disappear this morning—?”
“Yesterday morning,” Iff corrected dispassionately.
“—yesterday morning, and how?”
“Because the time seemed ripe for me to do my marvellous vanishing stunt. You see, I had a hunch that the dear captain would turn things over in his mind and finally determine not to accept my credentials at their face value. So I kind of stuck round the wireless room with my ears intelligently pricked forward. Sure enough, presently I heard the message go out, asking what about me and how so.”
“You mean you read the operator’s sending by ear?”
“Sure; I’ve got a telegrapher’s ear as long as a mule’s.... Whereupon, knowing just about what sort of an answer ’d come through, I made up my mind to duck. And did.”
“But how—?”
“That’d be telling, and telling would get somebody aboard the Autocratic into terrible bad trouble if it ever leaked out. I crawled in out of the weather—let it go at that. I wish,” said Mr. Iff soulfully, “those damn’ Pinkerton men had let it go at that. Once or twice I really thought they had me, or would have me the next minute. And they wouldn’t give up. That’s why I had to take to the water, after dark. My friend, who shall be nameless, lent me the loan of a rope and I shinned down and had a nice little swim before I found a place to crawl ashore. I assure you that the North River tastes like hell.... O thank you; don’t mind if I do.”
“Then,” said Staff, watching the little man help himself on his own invitation—“Then you are Ismay!”