to the tea and coffee-cake, the stranger came to a stop and leaned companionably against the jamb of the open door.
The young man glanced up at the huge figure darkening his cabin. He did so with no outward sign of emotion. He had, apparently, become inured to the wondering eyes of the passengers, and he had his own ends to pursue. So he went on with his coffee-cake in silence.
"Could you take those messages of mine now?" asked the man in the raincoat.
"Any old time now," answered the operator, without so much as a second glance.
"I settle for it with you, don't I?" asked the stranger, drawing out a roll of bills. The formidable dimensions of that roll were lost on the man bending over the teacup.
"Leave your name and cabin number, and pay the purser. They don't seem to trust operators on this floating palace! All I do is stamp the time-check on the message and send it out."
He took the two messages, stamped them, and read them aloud, before pencilling the number of words on a corner of each sheet and stabbing it on his "send" hook. He read, perfunctorily:
Varrel, Sixty Wall Street, New York.
Our man on board Laminian bound Puerto Locombia. Wire Washington. Will have him held by authorities to await instructions. Duffy.
