“What about to-morrow?” he asked, ignoring the assertion.
“Would you care to come in the evening and have something to eat before the child goes to bed?”
Porter Swan, in a moment of inspiration, kissed her hand, thus striking the exactly right note, and she declared she seemed to have known him for years. Would Mr. Swan do her one favour?
“Command me!” he begged.
Would he mind taking that lad’s box away with him, and leaving it at the station or somewhere? The sight of it on the morrow would recall bitter words that she wished to drive from her memory.
“I don’t mind obliging you,” said Swan, feigning reluctance, “to that extent.”
It had cost a deal of thought and of trouble, but good repayment came the next morning. He conducted Mannering to the Up Parcels Office, and there formally presented him with the tin box, sent free from the suburban station as “Luggage Left Behind.” The staff of the Up Parcels Office cheered Swan, and, clustering around, begged to be informed how the feat had been accomplished, and had to interpret a wink given as reply. Porter Swan waved aside the lad’s thanks, declined the grateful offer of refreshments, and walked out with the air of a successful diplomatist leaving the Guildhall after receiving in a gold casket the freedom of the City. During the day he found a new regard paid to him; colleagues came for private conference on knotty points of law, ranging from difficulties with a neighbour concerning cats to the regaining of engagement rings held by lady bailees. It was all very pleasant and gratifying, and, in order to enjoy it to the full, he gave less than his usual energy to the collection of tips, actually leaving one leisurely passenger without allowing her time to find her purse.
Not until a client, searching for sound legal advice, and finding it impossible to state his case amidst the puffing and whistling of engines, inquired: “What are you doing with yourself this evening, old man?”—not until then did he recall the circumstance that he had promised to eat a meal on the occasion of his ensuing visit. He wanted to see her again—just once more, at any rate—and he knew domestic authorities were not too well pleased when disappointed in regard to a guest. To arrive after the supper hour would mar the warmth and geniality of his reception.
“Mannering!”
“Yes, Mr. Swan. Anything I can do for you?”