Stiffly he drew himself out of the trunk, to blink in the unaccustomed light. "O,... O.... O.... Oh! Lord!... If I only had that last baggageman by the neck!" He bent forward and back to limber an apparently paralyzed spinal column. "Well, I'm all here!" He stumbled across the cabin, where he helped himself to a welcome drink of water. He tenderly caressed the bruised elbows, and breathed hard. "I'm _most_ all here!" He looked down at his twisted, cracked patent-leather shoes. "My feet are bent--they'll never get well!" He sat limply down on the top of the trunk, and fumbling in his hip pocket drew forth a bent and battered cigarette case. As he struck a light to inhale a few welcome, cheering puffs, he looked about his strange surroundings with the old, unconquerable Jarvis spirit. "A Princess--a Duke--a castle--a treasure! Well, well! But the problem is: _Where the devil do I fit in_?" VII THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE Warren hobbled painfully to the telephone on the wall. This connected with a central switchboard from which he knew he could reach his own stateroom--provided Rusty had not failed in his trust. "Great Scott! Suppose it is impossible to get accommodations! I'll have to ride as a stowaway in the hold, after all!" he thought. At any rate he knew that the ten minutes were rapidly dissipating, and from what he had learned by eavesdropping through the trunk, the Duke was not the kindliest person in the world for a man in such a predicament. "Hello!" he called. "Hello, there.... Yes. I want the stateroom of Mr. Jarvis.... Yes, Warren Jarvis.... No, I don't know the number of the room.... All right." There was a pause, and he improved the opportunity to unlimber his arms and legs, while waiting by the instrument. At last came the welcome voice with the African accents: "Yassir, hello. Who do you want?" "Hello, Rusty!... Good boy.... Listen, come up to this stateroom, and bring me an overcoat and a scarf. Yes, and bring me a damp towel with some soap on it. Yes, and stick a comb into the coat pocket." "Law, boss, I dunno whar you-all is?" "That's right. Wait a minute." He opened the door to the cabin passageway, and squinted at the number plate. Back again to the telephone he continued: "Stateroom A, Promenade deck.... And bring up that big bundle in the steamer rug. Quick now." Jarvis hung up the receiver and walked stiffly to the window, peering out at the disappearing shores. "Well, good-by, Uncle Sam. I don't know when I'll see you again. And as for you, Miss Liberty--I don't believe there will be any of your sisters or cousins around this precious castle where Fate is taking me. I don't know which of us two is the craziest--this Duke or myself." Then, after a pause, he added, "Well, his taste is not to be sneered at; that's certain." There was a knock at the door. Warren was uncertain as to the wisest thing to do. He called: "Go away--we're all very ill!" Then he darted for one of the side staterooms.