violently erect, bumping his head against the open door of the lamp
compartment, and swung a red and agitated face toward his shoulder.

"I--beg your pardon," said the voice. "I'm afraid I startled you. I'm
extremely sorry. Really I am."

"What the h-ll?" observed Raish, enthusiastically.

"I'm very sorry, very--yes, indeed," said the voice once more. Mr.
Pulcifer, rubbing his bumped head and puffing from surprise and the
exertion of stooping, stared wide-eyed at the speaker.

The latter was no one he knew, so much was sure, to begin with. The
first impression Raish gained was of an overcoat and a derby hat. Then
he caught the glitter of spectacles beneath the hat brim. Next his
attention centered upon a large and bright yellow suitcase which the
stranger was carrying. That suitcase settled it. Mr. Pulcifer's keen
mind had diagnosed the situation.

"No," he said, quickly, "I don't want nothin'--nothin'; d'you get me?"

"But--but--pardon me, I--"

"Nothin'. Nothin' at all. I've got all I want."

The stranger seemed to find this statement puzzling.

"Excuse me," he faltered, after a moment's hesitation, during which
Raish scratched another match. "I--You see--I fear--I'm sure you don't
understand."