Part 21 (2/2)
Graham and Vincent were standing together, and apart from the rest of the pa.s.sengers, when Mr. Waterbury approached them.
”A word with you, gentlemen,” said he gravely.
”I don't know you, sir,” bl.u.s.tered Vincent.
”Perhaps not. Permit me to remark that I have no special desire for your acquaintance.”
”Then why do you take the liberty of addressing me?”
”I rather admire the fellow's impudence,” said Mr. Waterbury to himself.
”Are you a.s.sociated with this gentleman?” he asked, indicating Graham.
”We are friends.”
”Then I will address an inquiry to him. I am not in the habit of receiving calls in my stateroom during the hours of sleep.”
”I don't understand you, sir,” said Milton Graham, with hauteur.
”Oh, yes, you do, unless your memory is singularly defective. Our staterooms are close together. You entered mine last night.”
”You must have been dreaming.”
”If so, I was dreaming with my eyes open. Perhaps it was in my dreams that I saw you extract a wallet from my coat pocket.”
”Do you mean to insult me, sir?” demanded Graham.
”Really, sir, your remarks are rather extraordinary,” chimed in Vincent.
”Do you mean to say that I robbed you?” demanded Graham, confident in the knowledge that the booty was not on his person.
”I find a wallet missing. That speaks for itself.”
”Let me suggest that your roommate probably took it,” said Vincent.
”Extremely probable,” said Graham. ”He roomed with me in Pittsburg, and I caught him at my pockets during the night.”
”Did you ever hear the fable of the wolf and the lamb, Mr. Graham?”
asked Mr. Waterbury.
”Can't say I have.”
”It's of no consequence. I am reminded of it, however.”
”Come to think of it,” said Vincent, ”I saw the boy with a roll of bills. You had better search him. If he is innocent, he can't object.”
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