It is not the fault of the _compagnie_ that he is without a bed.

Did not M'sieur book the compartment himself?
_Tres bien!_" As the result of strong persuasion, the _garde_ consented to make "the grand tour" of the train de luxe in search of a berth.

It goes without saying that he was intensely mystified by Brock's incautious remark that he would be satisfied with "an upper if he couldn't do any better." For the life of him, Monsieur the _garde_ could not comprehend the situation.

He went away, shaking his head and looking at the tickets, as much as to say that an American is never satisfied--not even with the best.
Brock lowered a window-seat in the passage and sat down, staring blankly and blackly out into the whizzing night.

The predicament had come upon him so suddenly that he had not until now found the opportunity to analyse it in its entirety.