Anyway, Bull Dog or no Bull Dog, having made a light, I slid down from my berth—­no thanks to the step-ladder—­dangled a few wild seconds in the air, and then offering—­yes, offering my stockinged feet to the Minotaur, I poked my head into the lower berth.

“What are you going to do?” gasped its occupant, la grosse femme whose fault it would be if my hair did change from the gold of a louis to the silver of a mere franc.

“You say you’re stifling,” I reminded her, politely but firmly, and my tone was like the lull before a storm.

“Yes, but——­” We were staring into each other’s eyes, and—­could I believe my sense of touch, or was it mercifully blunted?  It seemed that the monster on the floor was gently licking my toes with a tongue like a huge slice of pink ham, instead of chewing them to the bone.  But there are creatures which do that to their victims, I’ve heard, by way of making it easier to swallow them, later.

“You also said no one cared,” I went on, courageously. “I care—­for myself as well as for you.  As for what I’m going to do—­I’m going to do several things.  First, open the window, and then—­then I’m going to undress you.”

“You must be mad!” gasped the lady, who was English.  Oh, but more English than any one else I ever saw in my life.

“Not yet,” said I, as I darted at the thick blind she had drawn down over the window, and let it fly up with a snap.  I then opened the window itself, a few inches, and in floated a perfumed breath of the soft April air for which our bereaved lungs had been longing.  The breeze fluttered round my head like a benediction until I felt that the ebbing tide of gold had turned, and was flowing into my back hair again.

“No wonder you’re dying, madam,” I exclaimed, switching the heat-lever to “Froid.”  “So was I, but being merely an Upper Berth, with no rights, I was suffering in silence.  I watched you turn the heat full on, and shut the window tight.  I saw you go to bed in all your clothes, which looked terribly thick, and cover yourself up with both your blankets; but I said nothing, because you were a Lower Berth, and older than I am.  I thought maybe you wanted a Turkish Bath.  But since you don’t—­I’ll try and save you from apoplexy, if it isn’t too late.”

I fumbled with brooches and buttons, with hooks and eyes.  It was even worse than I’d supposed.  The creature’s conception of a travelling costume en route for the South of France consisted of a heavy tweed dress, two gray knitted stay-bodices, one pink Jaeger chemise, and a couple of red flannel petticoats.  My investigations went no further; but, encouraged in my rescue work by spasmodic gestures on the part of the patient, and forbearance on the part of the dog, I removed several superfluous layers of wool.  One blanket went to the floor, where it was accepted in the light of a gift by His Majesty, and the other was returned to its owner.