THE SIAMESE CAT
may happen to meet again somewhere. No, many thanks, our man is seeing to our luggage. Good-bye, Mr. Scarlett."
"Good-bye," said he, and answered the girl's smile; but it was gloomily that he swung down on the forward deck and picked out his trunks from the heap.
"I'm an ass," he thought, and gave almost savage directions to the hotel boy.
Near by, Borkman of the glowing eyes towered calm above the confusion. In cream-coloured pongee, with a diamond buckle on his watch-strap, he surveyed the trunks, choosing among them with a silver-mounted stick of polished stingaree. "Those b'long my, eight piecee, catchee that house, chop-chop!" he commanded, giving the coolie a written card.
The stingaree rapped down sharply on the canvas trunks marked "L. H."
Scarlett stared in wonder.
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