He was regarding
this speculatively when the purser knocked, then entered at his
call.
"I've just heard that there's a mistake about your ticket," the
new-comer began. "It is made out to 'Mr. Jefferson Locke,' but the
doctor says you insist your name is something else."
"That's right. My name is Anthony."
"Then how did I get this ticket?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Have you any baggage?"
"I don't know."
"What is your destination?"
"I don't know. You'll pardon my limited vocabulary?"
"Are you joking?"
"Do I look as if I were?"
"But I don't understand."
"Neither do I. But I must have some luggage--a fellow wouldn't
make a trip like this without baggage, would he?"
"I should think not. I'll look it up for you if you wish. But
about this ticket--"
"My dear man, don't bother me with that. I have worries enough as
it is. What I want now is a clean shirt and collar."
"Yes, but this ticket says--"
"Please! Look at my linen. I'll create a scandal this way."
"Mr. Locke--"
"Anthony."
"Very well, Mr. Anthony. I must straighten out this ticket affair.
Really, I must."
"All right, straighten away."
"If you are not Mr. Locke, it is no good."
"Hurrah! Put me off."
"You don't understand--the ticket is good, but--See here, there's
something mighty strange about this.
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