"
"But which is which?"
"If K. D. B. should come now!"
"But the last man looks more like the captain."
The last man was a sturdy, broad-shouldered fellow, who might have
been forty. His heavy mustache was just touched with gray, and he
did have a certain vaguely "sober and industrious" appearance.
But the difference between the two men was slight, after all; the
red-headed man could easily have been a sea captain, and he
certainly was over thirty-five.
"Which? which? which?--how can we tell? We might think of some way
to get rid of the coincidence, if we could only tell which the
coincidence was. We owe it to K. D. B. In a way, Condy, it's our
duty. We brought her here, or we are going to, and we ought to
help her all we can; and she may be here at any moment. What time
is it now?"
"Five minutes after seven. But, Blix, I should think the right
one--the captain--would be all put out himself by seeing another
chap here wearing marguerites. Does either one of 'em seem put
out to you? Look. I should think the captain, whichever one he
is, would kind of GLARE at the coincidence."
Stealthily they studied the two men for a moment.
"No, no," murmured Blix, "you can't tell. Neither of them seems
to glare much. Oh, Condy"--her voice dropped to a faint whisper.
"The red-headed one has put his hat on a chair, just behind him,
notice? Do you suppose if you stood up you could see inside?"
"What good would that do?"
"He might have his initials inside the crown, or his whole name
even; and you could see if he had a 'captain' before it.
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