"Here you are, then."

"Thank you, sir."

The youth drew his head and shoulders in, stared at Mike again, and
finally sat down. Mike noticed that he had nothing to read, and
wondered if he wanted anything; but he did not feel equal to offering
him one of his magazines. He did not like the looks of him
particularly. Judging by appearances, he seemed to carry enough side
for three. If he wanted a magazine, thought Mike, let him ask for it.

The other made no overtures, and at the next stop got out. That
explained his magazineless condition. He was only travelling a short
way.

"Good business," said Mike to himself. He had all the Englishman's
love of a carriage to himself.

The train was just moving out of the station when his eye was suddenly
caught by the stranger's bag, lying snugly in the rack.

And here, I regret to say, Mike acted from the best motives, which is
always fatal.

He realised in an instant what had happened. The fellow had forgotten
his bag.

Mike had not been greatly fascinated by the stranger's looks; but,
after all, the most supercilious person on earth has a right to his