Great heaps of trunks were stacked
here and there, and a crane was steadily at work swinging them aboard.
"We can't go aboard yet, nobody seems to know why," Bob said. "An
individual called an embarkation officer, or something of the kind, has
to check our passports; he was supposed to be here before three
o'clock, but there's no sign of him yet, and every one has to wait his
convenience. It's hard on the women with little children--the poor mites
are getting tired and cross. Luggage can be left in the care of the
ship's hands, to be loaded; I'll show you where, sir, if you like. Is
this yours?" His eye fell on a truck-load of trunks, wheeled up by a
porter, and lit up suddenly as he noticed the name on their labels.
"Oh--are you Mr. Linton?" he exclaimed. "I believe I've got a letter for
you, from General Harran."
"Now, I was wondering where I'd heard your name before, when your sister
happened to say you were Captain Rainham," said the big man. "How stupid
of me--of course, I met Harran at my club this week, and he told me
about you." He held out his hand, and took Bob's warmly; then he turned
to his daughter. "Norah, it's lucky that we have made friends with Miss
Rainham already, because you know she's in our care, after a fashion."
Norah Linton turned with a quick smile.
"I'm so glad," she said. "I've been wondering what you would be like,
because we didn't know of anyone else on board.
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