Coutlass and the other Greek were sitting at a table with a gorged look, glancing neither to the right nor left, yet not eating. I looked at the railway official, who had not left his seat. It struck me he was laughing silently, but he did not look up. The crowd, after the manner of all crowds, stormed at the Goanese manager.
"What can I do? What shall I do?" wailed the unhappy little man.
"They are bigger than I! They were greedy! They took!"
All those charges were evidently true, and stated mildly. Coutlass rose to his feet.
"Gassharamminy!" he thundered, and his stomach stuck out over the table it was so full of various drinks. "Why should we not take? Who isn't thirsty in this hell of a place? Who leaves good drink deserves to lose it!"
"What shall I do?" wailed the Goanese manager.
"Take the orders for drinks again," said the railway man, glancing up from his figures. "Bring the account to me."
The waiters ran to fill orders, and a babel of abuse at the second table was hurled at Coutlass and his friends; but they did not leave the table because there was another course to come, and, as the manager had said, they were greedy. Then in came the guard, his face a blood-and-smudgy picture of discontent.
"Say!" he yelled. "Ain't I goin' to get those two first-classes on trays?" He came and stood by us. "Did you ever 'ear the likes of it? They swear neither of 'em was out of the compartment. They call me a liar for askin' for my key back! They swear I never gave it to 'em, 'an they never asked for it, an' their door was never locked, nor nothin'!"
He passed on to the railway man.
"I'll have to borry your key, sir. Mine's lost. Can't open doors until I get one from somewhere."