Never had I uttered anything more soothing; he had nothing whatever to say. And I’ll say this for him, he may have been stubborn and hard to convince, but once won over, he came all the way. “Now exactly who are you?” I inquired, as he dropped the paper. “Private or government operative?” He refrained from laying back his coat impressively to display a shining star. Apparently they do that only on the stage, or in the “sets” out in Los Angeles. Also he lacked the scintillating line of language I’d been led to expect by the Actors’ Equity. Somehow, since actually playing about with Jerry’s friends, I’ve lost my feeling for the crook drama. “You may consider me government, if you prefer; and you may call me Dibley,” “Iron Age” confided indulgently and with complete trust. Hereafter, when any one questions me, I’ll remember the stupifying effect of cheese quotations. I never saw anything lull a mind so. The trouble was--or perhaps it was an advantage--“Iron Age” now considered me not only harmless but probably childish. “Have you any idea who that fellow was who wedged the door in front of you?” he asked. “Did he wedge the door?” I asked, innocently. I wasn’t growing any keener about “Iron Age” Dibley, but I saw no harm in gratifying him. “Didn’t you realize that? Well, he’s Stanley Sydenham--St. James Stanley, he’s sometimes called--the title tapper.” “What?” I really didn’t know that. “Land swindler. He’s out of Colorado State penitentiary last April after serving five years in the long house on his last irrigated-land transaction. Has he talked to you?” “A few words,” I said truthfully. “Probably he’ll talk to you again,” Dibley suggested, in a tone which hinted that he believed that George, having made a start with the simplest person on the train, would probably continue imposing on a good thing. “Also meet, if you can, Miss Doris Wellington and her maid in compartment E of car No. 424. Then don’t let any of them see you and me talking together.” “All right,” I agreed willingly. “But what particularly do you suspect?” “Exclude nothing,” Dibley said and got up, the soothing effect of the double daisies and Fond du Lac twins still strong upon him. I wandered forward to my seat when I discovered that, in my absence, I had acquired hand baggage; and I had sense enough not to question anybody about it or show surprise; I just accepted it; for there it was,--a neat, new, creditable-looking suit case under the forward seat in the position usually assigned to the baggage of the passenger of an upper berth; and it was, beyond any mistake of recognition, the neatest and newest of the suit cases which, at the Blackstone, had been the property of Doris Wellington. I bent down, after loafing in the seat for a while, and I tried the locks in a careless sort of way, as though making sure I’d fastened my luggage. The bag was locked; and I shoved it farther under the seat and soon went forward.