She avoided direct answer to that. "Well, he's still a young man," she said. "He hasn't retired; so naturally you'd suppose so, wouldn't you?"
"All right. Now as well as I can guess, old "Iron Age"—you know who I mean?"
She nodded.
I went on. "He's aboard because George is. He knows him; but he doesn't know you. I'm here to find out about you. What shall I tell him?"
"That we're getting off at Cleveland, please."
"What?" I said. "Are you?"
"Yes."
"And you want me to tell him that?"
"If you'll be so good."
I waited with my hand on the knob. "I'll see you again."
"Oh, please do!" she invited; and, feeling flushed and mighty good, I stepped into the corridor and drifted to the rear.
My new baggage was still under my seat in my Pullman but George was lost to sight. I wouldn't have put it past Dibley to have locked him up somewhere but that didn't seem to be the case when I encountered old "Iron Age" In the door of the smoking room of one
