grunted irritably and, picking his way through and over the mound
of luggage, deposited himself on the transom opposite the berths.

"A present for the missis, I take it?" pursued Iff.

"You might take it, and welcome, for all of me.... Only it isn't mine.
_And_ I am not married."

"Pardon!" murmured Mr. Iff. "But if it isn't yours," he suggested
logically, "what the deuce-and-all is it doing here?"

"I'm supposed to be taking it home for a friend."

"Ah! I see.... A very, _very_ dear friend, of course....?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Staff regarded the bandbox with open
malevolence. "If I had my way," he said vindictively, "I'd lift it a
kick over the side and be rid of it."

"How you do take on, to be sure," Iff commented placidly. "If I may be
permitted to voice my inmost thought: you seem uncommon' peeved."

"I am."

"Could I soothe your vexed soul in any way?"

"You might tell me how to get quit of the blasted thing."

"I'll try, if you'll tell me how you got hold of it."

"Look here!" Staff suddenly aroused to a perception of the fact that he
was by way of being artfully pumped. "Does this matter interest you very
much indeed?"

"No more, apparently, than it annoys you.... And it is quite possible
that, in the course of time, we _might_ like to shut the door.... But,
as far as that is, I don't mind admitting I'm a nosey little beast. If
you feel it your duty to snub me, my dear fellow, by all means go to it.
I don't mind--and I dessay I deserve it."

This proved irresistible; Staff's humour saved his temper. To the
twinkle in Iff's faded blue eyes he returned a reluctant smile that
ended in open laughter.

"It's just this way," he explained somewhat to his own surprise, under
the influence of an unforeseen gush of liking for this good-humoured
wisp of a man--"I feel I'm being shamelessly imposed upon. Just as I was
leaving my rooms this morning this hat-box was sent to me, anonymously.
I assume that some cheeky girl I know has sent it to me to tote home for
her. It's a certificated nuisance--but that isn't all. There happens to
be a young woman named Searle on board, who has an exact duplicate of
this infernal contraption. A few moments ago I saw it, assumed it must
be mine, quite naturally claimed it, and was properly called down in the
politest, most crushing way imaginable. Hence this headache."

"So!" said Mr. Iff. "So that is why he doesn't love his dear little
bandbox!... A Miss Ear