As Mr. Hardlock walked down to the boat next morning he thought he had done rather a clever thing in sending his trunk in the ordinary way to the steamer. “Most people,” he said to himself, “would have made the mistake of being too careful about it. It goes along in the ordinary course of business. If anything should go wrong it will seem incredible that a sane man would send such a package in an ordinary express waggon to be dumped about, as they do dump luggage about in New York.” He stood by the gangway on the steamer watching the trunks, valises, and portmanteaus come on board. “Stop!” he cried to the man, “that is not to go down in the hold; I want it. Don’t you see it’s marked ‘wanted?’” “It is very large, sir,” said the man; “it will fill up a state-room by itself.” “I have the captain’s room,” was the answer. So the man flung the trunk down on the deck with a crash that made even the cool Mr. Hardlock shudder. “Did you say you had the captain’s room, sir?” asked the steward standing near. “Yes.” “Then I am your bedroom steward,” was the answer; “I will see that the trunk is put in all right.” The first day out was rainy but not rough; the second day was fair and the sea smooth. The second night Hardlock remained in the smoking-room until the last man had left. Then, when the lights were extinguished, he went out on the upper deck, where his room was, and walked up and down smoking his cigar. There was another man also walking the deck, and the red glow of his cigar, dim and bright alternately, shone in the darkness like a glow-worm.