"Nothing doing until the next trip."

Kirk strode forward and stared disconsolately down upon the
freight deck in a vain endeavor to collect his thoughts. How in
the devil had he managed to get into this mess? Could it be one of
Higgins's senseless pranks, or was there something deeper, more
sinister behind it? He recalled the incidents of that wild night
and began to have a disquieting doubt. Did that chance meeting
with the chap from St. Louis have anything to do with his presence
here, or had he really decided in some foolish, drunken whim to
take a trip to Central America? He hardly knew what to think or
where to begin his reasoning. He recollected that Jefferson Locke
had not impressed him very favorably at the start, and that his
behavior upon the appearance of the plain-clothes man had not
improved that first impression. It seemed certain that he must
have had his hand in this affair, else how would Anthony now find
himself in possession of his ticket? What had become of the
rightful occupant of Suite A? What had become of Higgins's
unfortunate victim with the cracked head? What did it all signify?
Kirk sighed disconsolately and gave it up. In five days more he
would learn the answer, anyhow, for there must be a cable from
Panama to the States. Meanwhile, he supposed he must reconcile
himself to his condition. But it was tough to have two weeks of
valuable time snatched out of his eventful life. It was maddening.




IV