“Well,” he said jauntily and indeed encouragingly, “we were talking of first and third-class tickets. What have you to say about them?”
“I speak of the steerage ticket only. If you haven’t forfeited it, you have the right to demand its return.”
“I suppose so. Still, it is of no particular use to me.”
“No, but it would be vital to me. Coming down in the train from London, my purse was stolen, or perhaps I lost it when giving up my railway ticket. So I am now without either money or transportation voucher.”
“Was it for cabin passage?”
“Yes.”
“In that case you will have no difficulty; your name will be on the purser’s list. Do you know the number of your state-room?”
“No, I do not, and, so far as my name goes, I can expect no help from that quarter, because the name I travel under is not Miss Trevelyan.”
“Good gracious,” cried Stranleigh, “there are three of us! This ship should be called Incognita. Was your money also in that purse?”