A VOICE. Make him show you the strawberry mark on his left arm.
MRS. ROBERTS. Edward! Edward! [THE CALIFORNIAN mechanically looses his grip, and they fly into each other’s embrace.] Where did you come from?
A VOICE. Centre door, left hand, one back.
THE CONDUCTOR (returning with his lantern). Hallo! What’s the matter here?
A VOICE. Train robbers! Throw up your hands! Tell the express-messenger to bring his safe.
[The passengers emerge from their berths in various deshabille and bewilderment.]
THE CONDUCTOR (to MR. ROBERTS). Have you been making all this row, waking up my passengers?
THE CALIFORNIAN. No, sir, he hasn’t. I’ve been making this row. This gentleman was peaceably looking for his wife, and I misunderstood him. You want to say anything to me?
THE CONDUCTOR (silently taking THE CALIFORNIAN’S measure with his eye, as he stands six fret in his stockings). If I did, I’d get the biggest brakeman I could find to do it for me. I’ve got nothing to say except that I think you’d better all go back to bed again.
[He goes out, and the passengers disappear one by one, leaving the ROBERTSES and THE CALIFORNIAN alone.]