"But, my dear fellow—it's absurd—you haven't any luggage."
"Luggage?" He looked at Mr. Jornicroft as if he had suggested the impossibility of going abroad without a motor veil or the Encyclopædia Britannica. "What the blazes has luggage got to do with it?" His roar could be heard above the din of the hurrying station. "I don't want luggage." The humour of the proposition appealed to him so mightily that he went off into one of his reverberating explosions of mirth.
"Ho! ho! ho!" Then recovering—"Don't you worry about that."
"But have you enough on you—it's an expensive journey—of course I should be most happy—"
Jaffery stepped back and scanned the length of the platform and beckoned to an official, who came hurrying towards him. It was the station master.
"Have you ever seen me before, Mr. Winter?"
The official laughed. "Pretty often, Mr. Chayne."
"Do you think I could get from here to Nice without buying a ticket now?"
"Why, of course, our agent at Boulogne will arrange it if I send him a wire."
"Right," said Jaffery. "Please do so, Mr. Winter. I'm crossing now and going to Nice by the Côte d'Azur Express to-morrow night. And see after a seat for me, will you?"