less pit just on
the point of opening under their feet. "I've only seen the man once and
then he failed to show the very slightest glimmer of comprehension of
what I had to put up with. Might as well talk to a stone wall.
Absolutely. I'm sure _I_ don't want to see your Transport Officer."

"I was going to ask you," said Mr. Spokesly, "if you don't mind, a
question. You seem to be in the know all round here."

"What is it?" said Mr. Dainopoulos, regarding Mr. Spokesly with sudden
interest. He even left his pen in the air while he listened.

Mr. Spokesly mentioned the incident of the suit of clothes left behind
by the indigent Jack Harrowby and the memories of the post-card shop
evoked by the interview with Mr. Theotokis.

Mr. Dainopoulos let his pen descend to the document he was auditing and
nodded in comprehension.

"Yes, all finished, eh? Wal, what you think?" he went on nonchalantly.
"She little damn fool. She tell plenty stories to anybody who get sweet
on her, you unnerstand? She hear _Tanganyika_ go south, time so and so.
She talk"--here Mr. Dainopoulos made a gesture with his thumb and
fingers indicating violent blabbing--"ba-ba-ba-ba! Now she's in jail.
_Tanganyika_, wal, you know all about _Tanganyika_, Mister. You
unnerstand; these peoples, French, English, they play, you know, golf
and tennees, and seem half asleep." He shook his head. "No! Not asleep.
Very bad business that. Me; I go all the time like this." And he drew a
perfectly straight line with his pen along the edge of his desk. "That
crooked business no good."

Captain Rannie was suddenly overtaken by a violent fit of coughing, and
buried his nut-cracker features in a large plum-coloured silk
handkerchief. His head was bowed, his shoulders heaved horribly, and
from him came a sound like an asthmatic horse whinnying. He might have
been laughing save that laughter was unknown to him beyond a short sharp
yawp, a "Ha!" involving a lift of the diaphragm and an intake of breath.
And since none had ever seen him laugh they would not suspect merriment
in this dreadful cacophony, this laryngeal uproar, which had so suddenly
assailed him. Mr. Dainopoulos looked at his captain very sternly and
then renewed the proposal to eat. Captain Rannie rose, joint by joint,
and stuffed his plum-coloured handkerchief into his breast pocket.

"No," he said, and Mr. Spokesly wondered if the man ever agreed to
anything except under protest. "No, I'm a two-meal-a-day ma