“Yes, I think so.”

“I’ll put your name on it.”

“Anthony, Suite A, third floor, front.”

“Very well, sir.”  The man wrote out a card and fitted it to the back of the chair, saying, “One dollar, if you please.”

“What?”

“The price of the chair is one dollar.”

“I haven’t got a dollar.”

The steward laughed as if to humor his passenger.  “I’m afraid then you can’t have the chair.”

“So I must stand up all the way to Panama, eh?”

“You are joking, sir.  I’ll have to pay it myself, if you don’t.”

“That’s right—­make me as uncomfortable as possible.  By-the-way, what size collar do you wear?”

“Sixteen.”

Kirk sighed.  “Send the purser to me, will you?  I’ll fix up the chair matter with him.”

While he was talking he heard the rustle of skirts close by and saw the woman he had met earlier seating herself next to him.  With her was a French maid bearing a rug in her hands.  It annoyed the young man to realize that out of all the chairs on deck he had selected the one nearest hers, and he would have changed his position had he not been too indolent.  As it was, he lay idly listening to her words of direction to the maid; but as she spoke in French, he was undecided whether she was telling her companion that bad weather was imminent, or that the laundry needed counting—­his mind, it seemed, ran to laundry.

Then the purser appeared.  “Did you send for me?” he inquired.

“Yes.  There was a strange man around just now, and he wanted a dollar for this chair.”

“Well?”

“I want to establish a line of credit.”

The purser grunted.

“And say!” Kirk ran on, seriously.  “I’ve been all over your little ship, but the passengers are boys’ size.  I can’t wear this collar any longer.”

“And I can’t find any baggage of yours.”

“Then there isn’t any.  I never really expected there was.  Come now, be a good fellow.  This is my ’case shirt.”

“If you really wish some clothes, I’ll see what I can find among the stewards.”

“No, no,” Kirk hastily interposed, “I can’t wear a shirt with soup stains on it.  Let me have one of yours—­we’re twin brothers.”

“I have no more than I need,” said the purser, coldly.  He opened a cigarette case, at which Anthony gazed longingly.  It seemed ages since he had had a smoke; but the other seemed disinclined for small courtesies.

“I’ve seen the captain about that ticket matter,” he went on, “and he says you must buy another.”

Kirk shook his head languidly.  “Once more I tell you there is nothing doing.”

The officer broke out with some heat:  “If you are joking, you’ve carried this thing far enough.  If you are really strapped, as you say you are, how does it happen that you are occupying the best suite on the ship?”

“It is a long story.”