The conductor merely repeated his question, and as Jennie was shaking her head the big Russian looked over the conductor’s shoulder and said in passable English,—
“He is asking for your ticket, madam. Do you not speak French?” In answer to this direct question Jennie, fumbling in her purse for her ticket, replied,—
“I speak English, and I have already shown him my ticket.” She handed her broad-sheet sleeping-car ticket to the Russian, who had pushed the conductor aside and now stood within the compartment.
“There has been a mistake,” he said. “Room C is the one that has been reserved for you.”
“I am sure there isn’t any mistake,” said Jennie. “I booked berths 5 and 6. See, there are the numbers,” pointing to the metallic plates by the door, “and here are the same numbers on the ticket.”
The Russian shook his head.
“The mistake has been made at the office of the Sleeping Car Company. I am a director of the Company.”
“Oh, are you?” asked Jennie innocently. “Is Room C as comfortable as this one?”
“It is a duplicate of this one, madam, and is more comfortable, because it is nearer the centre of the car.”
“Well, there is no mistake about my reserving the two berths, is there?”