over the gun case which lay
at the side of the sofa. Then he fell asleep. He was wakened--it seemed
to him rather less than five minutes later--by a steward who told him
that the steamer was rapidly approaching Kingstown Pier. He got up and
sought for means to wash. It is impossible for a self-respecting man who
has been brought up at an English public school to begin the day in good
humour unless he is able to wash himself thoroughly. But the designer
of the steamers of this particular line did not properly appreciate the
fact He provided a meagre supply of basins for the passengers, many of
whom, in consequence, land at Kingstown Pier in irritable moods, Frank
Mannix was one of them.

The elderly gentleman, who appeared less than ever a gentleman at five
o'clock in the morning, was another. Mannix retained, in spite of his
sleepiness and his sensation of grime, a slight amount of self-control.
He was moderately grateful to an obsequious sailor who relieved him of
his kit bag. He carried, as he had the night before, his own gun-case
and fishing-rod. The elderly gentleman, who carried nothing, had no
self-control whatever. He swore at the overburdened sailor who took his
things ashore for him. Mannix proceeded in his turn to cross the gangway
and was unceremoniously pushed from behind by the elderly gentleman. He
protested with frigid politeness.

"Don't dawdle, boy, don't dawdle," said the elderly gentleman.

"Don't hustle," said Mannix. "This isn't a football scrimmage."

In order to say this effectively he stopped in the middle of the gangway
and turned round.

"Damn it all," said the elderly gentleman, "go on and don't try to be
insolent."

Mannix was a prefect. He had, moreover, disposed of the captain of the
Uppingham eleven by a brilliant catch in the long field at a critical
moment of an important match. He had been praised in public by no less
a person than Mr. Dupre for his excellent influence on the tone of
Edmonstone House. He was not prepared to be sworn at and insulted by
a red-faced man with hairy hands at five o'clock in the morning. He
flushed hotly and replied, "Damn it all, sir, don't be an infernal cad."
The elderly gentleman pushed him again, this time with some violence.
Mannix stumbled, got his fishing-rod entangled in the rail of the
gangway, swung half round and then fell sideways on the pier. The
fishing-rod, plainly broken in pieces, remained in his hand. The
gun-case bumped along the p