Before long he discovered that the passengers considered him an
exceptionally sober, steady youth of economical habits, and this
enraged him beyond measure. Every tinkle of ice or hiss of seltzer
made his mouth water, the click of poker chips drew him with
magnetic power. He longed mightily to "break over" and have a good
time. It was his first effort at self-restraint, and the warfare
became so intense that he finally gave up the smoking-room almost
entirely, and spent his hours on deck, away from temptation. He
suffered most, perhaps, from the lack of tobacco, but even in the
matter of cigarettes he could not bring himself to accept favors
that he could not return. In the solitude of his richly appointed
suite he collected a few cork-bound stumps, which he impaled on a
toothpick in order to light them.

Meanwhile he amused himself by baiting the purser. He dogged that
serious-minded gentleman through all his waking hours, finding a
rare delight in playing upon his suspicion and lack of humor. To
him Kirk was always Mr. Locke, while he insisted upon being called
Mr. Anthony by the others, and the officer never quite got the
hang of it. Moreover, the latter was full of dignity, and did not
relish being connected with a certainly dubious and possibly
criminal character, yet dared not resort to rudeness as a means of
riddance.

The situation was trying enough to the young man at best; for the
ship's hirelings began to show a lack of interest in his comfort,
once it became known that he did not tip, and he experienced
difficulty in obtaining even the customary attentions. It was
annoying to one who had never known an unsatisfied whim; but Kirk