Part 5 (1/2)
”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 a.s.sume 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, a.s.sumed it must be mine, quite naturally claimed it, and was properly called down in the politest, most crus.h.i.+ng way imaginable. Hence this headache.”
”So!” said Mr. Iff. ”So that is why he doesn't love his dear little bandbox!... A Miss Earle, I think you said?”
”No--Searle. At least, that was the name on her luggage.”
”Oh--Searle, eh?”
”You don't happen to know her, by any chance?” Staff demanded, not without a trace of animation.
”Who? Me? Nothing like that,” Iff disclaimed hastily.
”I just thought you might,” said Staff, disappointed.
For some moments the conversation languished. Then Staff rose and pressed the call-b.u.t.ton.
”What's up?” asked Iff.
”Going to get rid of this,” said Staff with an air of grim determination.
”Just what I was going to suggest. But don't do anything hasty--anything you'll be sorry for.”
”Leave that to me, please.”
From his tone the a.s.sumption was not unwarrantable that Staff had never yet done anything that he had subsequently found cause to regret.