What was he talking about?

I did not get the chance to pose my question aloud, however, for now Waggins was back among us and, with him, the cabbie.

He was a tall human, this cabbie. Were my ceilings of the low sort you sometimes hear about, more typically found in older pubs, his head would no doubt scrape against it.

“The pup said you needed help with a trunk?” the cabbie said in what can only be described as a surly fashion. I must say, the help these days. It’s not like when I hired Mr. Javier, that’s for certain.

“Yes, my good chap!” Bones said, all friendly good cheer and politeness himself, as though taking no notice whatsoever of the cabbie’s surly rudeness. “It’s this trunk right here.” He indicated. “If you could be so good as to … ”

The cabbie bent to the task and—