“Pray do not take the trouble to explain,” the other answered airily. “I discovered this excellent book in your suitcase also. In fact, for me, that suitcase has proved to be a repository of treasures.” John Stuart Webster's neck came out of his collar with the suddenness of a turtle snapping at a fly; he drew himself up beside the top berth until his face was on a level with his unbidden guest's, upon whom he bent a look of mingled emotions. On his part the stranger returned his gaze with grave interest, and when the silence threatened to become embarrassing he said:
“Will you have the goodness to press that button? I think we should drink a bumper to our better acquaintance and I have no doubt but that the barkeeper on this packet can manufacture a golden fizz. Do you care for the famous New Orleans golden fizz?”
“It is a wonderful institution,” Webster replied, “and I'll have one. I need it to sustain me, for I am faint with amazement.” He pressed the button. “'While the golden fizz is fizzing,” he continued, “suppose you let me have a look at your ticket.”
“Ticket?” echoed his visitor. “I haven't any ticket. A kind gentleman bought one for me and has it in his possession. Do you, sir, by any chance, happen to be that philanthropic individual?”
“Well, I'll be——”
“Hush!” the stranger warned, raising an admonitory finger. “No profanity, please. I have been tenderly reared and cuss words will only shock me and clog the atmosphere. I'm here to do you and do you a delicate brown, so bear up, kind sir, and take your walloping like a sport.”
“Who the devil are you?” John Stuart Webster demanded.
“I regret I have no card, but even if I had it would be no kindness to inflict upon an American gentleman the cognomen my parents honoured me with, for it is long and many-jointed, like a peanut, and embodies the names of all the saints in the calendar. Moreover, just at present I am travelling under an alias. I am known as Mr. Andrew Bowers.”
“And your occupation?” Webster managed to articulate.
“Valet de chambre to that prince of gentlemen, Mr. John S. Webster,” the other replied with a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes.