His breath smelt strongly of liquor, but I had no right to object, and he dropped heavily into the seat.

Presently I went sound asleep.  How long I slept I do not know.  When I awoke it was with a sharp, stinging sensation in the head.  A pungent odor filled my nose, the scent coming from a handkerchief some one had thrown over my face.

With a gasp I pulled the handkerchief aside and sat up.  Beside me sat Mr. Allen Price with my handbag on his lap.  He had a number of keys in his hand and was trying to unlock the bag.

CHAPTER XXII

 A telegram

I was startled and indignant when I discovered Mr. Allen Price with my handbag, trying to open it.  It looked very much as if my fellow-passenger was endeavoring to rob me.

I had suspected from the start that this man was not “straight.”  There was that peculiar something about his manner which I did not like.  He had been altogether too familiar from the first; too willing to make himself agreeable.

What he expected to find in my bag I could not imagine.  If his mission was robbery pure and simple, why had he not selected some one who looked richer than myself?  There was, I am certain, nothing about me to make him believe I had anything of great value in the bag.

“What are you doing with my valise?” I demanded as I straightened up.

My sudden question made the man almost jump to his feet.  The bag dropped from his lap to the floor, and the keys in his hand jingled after it.

“I—­ I—­ didn’t think you were awake,” he stammered.

“You didn’t?” I repeated, puzzled as to what to say.

“No—­ I—­ I—­”

“You were trying to open my bag.”

“So I was—­ but it’s all a mistake, I assure you.”

“A mistake?”

“Quite a mistake, Strong.”  He cleared his throat.  “The fact is, I’m suffering so from the toothache that I’m hardly able to judge of what I’m doing.  I thought your bag was my own.”

“They are not much alike,” I returned bluntly.

“Well, you see mine is a new one, and I’m not used to it yet.  I hope you don’t think I was trying to rob you?” he went on, with a look of reproach.

I was silent.  I did think that that was just what he was trying to do, but I hardly cared to say so.

“It’s awful to have such toothaches as I get,” he continued, putting his hand to his cheek.  “They come on me unawares, and drive me frantic.  I wanted to get my teeth attended to in Jersey City when I was there, but I didn’t have time.”

“What’s this on the handkerchief?” I asked.

“Oh, I guess I spilled some of my toothache cure on it,” he replied, after some hesitation.  “I used some and then put the bottle back in the valise.  That’s how I came to look for the bottle again.  I hope you’re not offended.  It was all a mistake.”