He flung himself at the door of the guard’s van. And the evil chance of such things seemed to be against him. A very large, a very bulky man was trying to do the same thing. He was an idiot of a man. He stumbled and fumbled. He blocked the way with his hideous ineptitude. So stupid was he that Clement had the feeling that exasperated people get, that is, the fool was doing it all purposely.
Clement Seadon was young and very active. While the excessive man still stumbled and blundered along beside a train steadily gathering pace, he nipped ahead of him, and with an agile twist was on to the footboard and into the van.
He turned at once to help the large fool. With a surprising access of nimbleness the big fellow was already in the train, standing beside him in the van. Already saying with a sort of purring urbanity, “Well, that was the nearest shave—nearer for you, sir. I must apologize. I did not actually realize you were trying to get on the train. I thought you were a porter or some one trying to help me. I must apologize, sir.”
He said this with the utmost geniality, which, at the same time, seemed to be reserved. It was as though he spoke automatically the right things; but what he said had no relationship to what he felt. And while he spoke he stared fixedly across Clement’s shoulder, and Clement was aware of the smallness of his eyes and their astonishing closeness together.
Still everything had ended well, and he said as much. He parted with this far too much of a man, and made his way along the corridor to his compartment. Here he was not at all sorry for the accident. Both ladies were in a lively state of alarm, and that alarm gave way to a cheery thankfulness at seeing him safely on board once more.
Or rather with the girl Loise that was how things worked out, and, as far as he was concerned, the journey was made even more attractive by the emotion this little episode had called up. It was not quite so with the Gorgon. She seemed overwhelmed by the knowledge that it was her stupidity in the matter of her watch and the wrong cloakroom ticket that had nearly caused Clement to miss the train and the boat. Her apologies were profuse, and she endeavored to make an amende by correcting, rather late in the day, the time on her watch.
The rest of the journey was uneventful (and Clement was now seeing things in a more acute light)—unless one could see something grave in the tiny incident on the landing stage.
The whole of Clement’s baggage had gone astray.
Now that he looked at it, Clement began to see the strangeness of the happening. He had not been careless. He had instructed a porter fully before returning to help the ladies. He had even chuckled at his own efficiency when, on looking back, he saw the big man who had all but prevented his gaining the boat train, standing helpless near his own busy porter.
Nevertheless twenty minutes later Nicholson, his cabin steward, told him he could not find his luggage anywhere. Nicholson was not a man to make mistakes and if he said luggage could not be found, it could not be found. Angry as he was at the mishap Clement wasted no time. He had to have that luggage. Naturally, he could not possibly sail without a rag to his name.