"Just so. The tug of war, so to speak. I braced the landlord! I invited him to take a chair beside me and began the siege."
"Commenced operations. Fire away."
"I had already made a study of the man, and had well considered my plan of attack. I opened by telling him frankly I was in trouble. The week's business had been bad, receipts next door to nothing, my share slim. To make a long story short, I confessed I could not settle my bill."
"That must have been an interesting communication for mine host of the inn. How did he take it?"
"Well, his reception of the information somewhat surprised me. I anticipated a storm; but no. He was perfectly calm. I waited for a reply, but he simply remarked, 'Well?' I then enlarged on my ill-luck, bad business, terrible weather, and wound up with a pathetic story of our situation. 'Well,' he again exclaimed, 'I will hold the baggage and stuff until you can settle up.'"
"The old, old story," plaintively exclaimed Fogg.
"I felt that was coming, but I also judged from the manner of that decision, cold as it was in all the integrity of its meaning, that I had a practical man to deal with. Take my word for it, Fogg, it is always better to have business dealings with a man of that type than with one who, while he loads you up with sympathy to beat the band, doesn't mean a word of it. To settle there and then for board and get our things out of quarantine was out of the question; to attempt to play our next stand without our 'props' and things was equally difficult."
"Of course, but then," said Fogg, "hotelkeepers never take these things into consideration."
"No, never. 'Mr. Breadland'—that was his name—'I have a proposition to make,' said I, 'and as you seem to be a practical man, you will, I have an idea, recognize its practicability. The situation is this: I owe you money. The amount I am unable to pay just now. You say you propose to hold on to the baggage belonging to the company as security for the debt.'
"'You state the case precisely,' said he.