“So I told the man who is unpacking his luggage there; but he showed me his ticket, and it was issued before mine. I can’t quite understand why your people should—” “What kind of a looking man is he?” “A thin, unhealthy, cadaverous man, who doesn’t look as if he would last till the voyage ends. I don’t want _him_ for a room mate, if I have to have one. I think you ought—” “I will, sir. I will make it all right. I suppose, if it should happen that a mistake has been made, and he has the prior claim to the room, you would not mind taking No. 24—it is a larger and better room.” “That will suit me exactly.” So the purser locked his door and went down to No. 18. “Well?” he said to its occupant. “Well,” answered Mr. Keeling, looking up at him with his cold and fishy eyes. “You’re here again, are you?” “I’m here again, and I _will_ be here again. And again and again, and again and again.” “Now, what the—” Then the purser hesitated a moment, and thought perhaps he had better not swear, with that icy, clammy gaze fixed upon him. “What object have you in all this?” “Object? The very simple one of making your company live up to its contract. From Liverpool to New York, my ticket reads. I paid for being landed in the United States, not for being dumped overboard in mid-ocean. Do you think you can take me over? You have had two tries at it and have not succeeded. Yours is a big and powerful company too.” “If you know we can’t do it, then why do you—?” The purser hesitated. “Pester you with my presence?” suggested Mr. Keeling. “Because I want you to do justice. Two thousand pounds is the price, and I will raise it one hundred pounds every trip.” This time the New York papers got hold of the incident, but not of its peculiar features. They spoke of the extraordinary carelessness of the officers in allowing practically the same accident to occur twice on the same boat. When the _Gibrontus_ reached Liverpool all the officers, from the captain down, sent in their resignations. Most of the sailors did not take the trouble to resign, but cut for it. The managing director was annoyed at the newspaper comments, but laughed at the rest of the story. He was invited to come over and interview Keeling for his own satisfaction, most of the officers promising to remain on the ship if he did so. He took Room 18 himself. What happened I do not know, for the purser refused to sail again on the _Gibrontus_, and was given another ship. But this much is certain. When the managing director got back, the company generously paid Mrs. Keeling £2100. The Terrible Experience of Plodkins “Which—life or death? ’Tis a gambler’s chance! Yet, unconcerned, we spin and dance, On the brittle thread of circumstance.”