Job: A Comedy of Justice by Robert A. Heinlein Read Free Book Online

and cleaned my bath (okay, okay, Graham’s room, Graham’s bath—satisfied?) while I ate. She laid out a pair of slacks, a sport shirt in an island print, and sandals for me, then removed the tray and dishes while leaving coffee and the remaining fruit. I thanked her as she left, wondered if I should offer “payment” and wondered, too, if she performed such valet services for other passengers. It seemed unlikely. I found I could not ask.
    I bolted the door after her and proceeded to search Graham’s room.
    I was wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed, answering to his name—and now I must decide whether or not I would go whole hawg and be “A. L. Graham”…or should I go to some authority (American consul? If not, whom?), admit the impersonation, and ask for help?
    Events were crowding me. Today’s King Skald showed that S.S. Konge Knut was scheduled to dock at Papeete at 3 p.m. and sail for Mazatlán, Mexico, at 6 p.m. The purser notified all passengers wishing to change francs into dollars that a representative of the Bank of Papeete would be in the ship’s square facing the purser’s office from docking until fifteen minutes before sailing. The purser again wished to notify passengers that shipboard indebtedness such as bar and shop bills could be settled only in dollars, Danish crowns, or by means of validated letters of credit.
    All very reasonable. And troubling. I had expected the ship to stop at Papeete for twenty-four hours at the very least. Docking for only three hours seemed preposterous—why, they would hardly finish tying up before it would be time to start singling up for sailing! Didn’t they have to pay rent for twenty-four hours if they docked at all?
    Then I reminded myself that managing the ship was not my business. Perhaps the Captain was taking advantage of a few hours between departure of one ship and arrival of another. Or there might be six other reasons. The only thing I should worry about was what I could accomplish between three and six, and what I must accomplish between now and three.
    Forty minutes of intense searching turned up the following:
    Clothes, all sorts—no problem other than about five pounds at my waistline.
    Money—the francs in his billfold (must change them) and the eighty-five dollars there; three thousand dollars loose in the desk drawer that held the little case for Graham’s watch, ring, shirt studs, etc. Since the watch and jewelry had been returned to this case, I assumed conclusively that Margrethe had conserved for me the proceeds of that bet that I (or Graham) had won from Forsyth and Jeeves and Henshaw. It is said that the Lord looks out for fools and drunkards; if so, in my case He operated through Margrethe.
    Various impedimenta of no significance to my immediate problem—books, souvenirs, toothpaste, etc.
    No passport.
    When a first search failed to turn up Graham’s passport, I went back and searched again, this time checking the pockets of all clothes hanging in his wardrobe as well as rechecking with care all the usual places and some unusual places that might hide a booklet the size of a passport.
    No passport.
    Some tourists are meticulous about keeping their passports on their persons whenever leaving a ship. I prefer not to carry my passport when I can avoid it because losing a passport is a sticky mess. I had not carried mine the day before…so now mine was gone where the woodbine twineth, gone to Fiddler’s Green, gone where Motor Vessel Konge Knut had gone. And where was that? I had not had time to think about that yet; I was too busy coping with a strange new world.
    If Graham had carried his passport yesterday, then it too was gone to Fiddler’s Green through a crack in the fourth, dimension. It was beginning to look that way.
    While I fumed, someone slipped an envelope under the stateroom door.
    I picked it up and opened it. Inside was the purser’s billing for “my” (Graham’s) bills aboard ship. Was Graham scheduled to