CHAPTER X.
How they left the good yacht _Streak_, and how they bade a heartyfarewell to that old sea lion Captain Sturleson, and how they wentthrough the hundred and one formalities of the custom-house, and thethousand and one informalities of its officials, are matters of interestindeed, but not of history. There are moments in a man's existence whenthe act of conveying half a dozen sovereigns to the pocket of that sternmonitor of good faith, the brass-buttoned custom-house officer with thetender conscience, is of more importance to salvation than women's loveor the Thirty-nine Articles. All this they did. Nor were they spared bythe great tormentor of the West, who bristleth with the fretful quill,whose ears surround us in the night-time, and whose voice is as thevoice of the charmer, the reporter of the just and the unjust, butprincipally of the latter. And Mr. Barker made an appointment with theDuke, and took a tender farewell of the three ladies, and promised tocall on Claudius in the afternoon, and departed. But the rest of theparty went to a famous old hotel much affected by Englishmen, and whosechief recommendation in their eyes is that there is no elevator, so thatthey can run upstairs and get out of breath, and fancy themselves athome. Of course their apartments had been secured, and had been waitingfor them a week, and the Countess was glad to withdraw for the day intothe sunny suite over the corner that was hers. As for Miss Skeat, shewent to the window and stayed there, for America was quite differentfrom what she had fancied. Claudius descended to the lower regions, andhad his hair cut; and the cook and the bar-keeper and the head "boots,"or porter, as he called himself, all came and looked in at the door ofthe barber's shop, and stared at the huge Swede. And the barber walkedreverently round him with scissors and comb, and they all agreed thatClaudius must be Mr. Barnum's new attraction, except the head porter--norelation of an English head porter--who thought it was "Fingal's babby,or maybe the blessed Sint Pathrick himself." And the little boy whobrushed the frequenters of the barber's shop could not reach toClaudius's coat collar, so that the barber had to set a chair for him,and so he climbed up.
The Duke retired also to the depths of his apartments, and his servantarrayed him in the purple and stove-pipe of the higher civilisation. Andbefore long each of the ladies received a large cardboard box full offresh-cut flowers, sent by Mr. Barker of course; and the Duke, hearingof this from his man, sent "his compliments to Lady Victoria, and wouldshe send him a rose for his coat?" So the Duke sallied forth on foot,and the little creases in his clothes showed that he had just arrived.But he did not attract any attention, for the majority of the populationof New York have "just arrived." Besides, he had not far to go. He had afriend in town who lived but a few steps from the hotel, and his firstmove on arriving was generally to call there.
Claudius waited a short time to see whether Mr. Barker would come; butas Claudius rarely waited for anybody, he soon grew impatient, andsqueezing himself into a cab, told the driver to take him to Messrs.Screw and Scratch in Pine Street. He was received with deference, andtreated as his position demanded. Would he like to see Mr. Silas B.Barker senior? Very natural that he should want to make the acquaintanceof his relative's old friend and partner. Mr. Screw was out, yes--butMr. Scratch would accompany him. No trouble at all. Better "go aroundright off," as Mr. Barker would probably go to Newport by the boat thatevening. So they went "around right away," and indeed it was a circularjourney. Down one elevator, through a maze of corridors, round crowdedcorners, through narrow streets, Claudius ploughing his way throughbillows of curbstone brokers, sad and gay, messenger-boys, young clerks,fruit vendors, disreputable-looking millionaires and gentlemanly-lookingscamps, newspaper-boys, drunken Irishmen, complacent holders ofpreferred, and scatterbrained speculators in wild-cat, an atmosphere oftobacco smoke, dust, melons, and unintelligible jargon--little Mr.Scratch clinging to his client's side, nodding furiously at every otherface he saw, and occasionally shouting a word of outlandish etymology,but of magic import. Claudius almost thought it would be civil to offerto carry the little man, but when he saw how deftly Mr. Scratch got in afoot here and an elbow there, and how he scampered over any little bitof clear pavement, the Doctor concluded his new acquaintance wasprobably used to it. More elevators, more passages, a glass door, stillbearing the names "Barker and Lindstrand," and they had reached theirdestination.
The office was on the second floor, with large windows looking over thestreet; there were several people in the room they first entered, andthe first person Claudius saw was Mr. Barker junior, his friend.
"Well," said Barker, "so you have found us out. That's right. I wascoming round to see you afterwards, for I did not suppose you would liketo face 'the street' alone. Father," he said, turning to a thickset manwith white hair and bushy eyebrows, "this is Dr. Claudius, Mr.Lindstrand's nephew."
The old gentleman looked up keenly into Claudius's face, and smiledpleasantly as he put out his hand. He said a few words of cordialwelcome, and seemed altogether a sturdy, hearty, hardworking man ofbusiness--rather a contrast to his son. He hoped that Claudius wouldcome on to Newport with Silas, as he wanted to have a long talk withhim. The old gentleman was evidently very busy, and his son tookClaudius in charge.
"What is that?" asked the Doctor, looking curiously at a couple ofwheels that unwound unceasingly long strips of white paper. The paperpassed through a small instrument, and came out covered withunintelligible signs, coiling itself in confusion into a waste-basketbelow.
"That has driven more men to desperation, ruin, and drink, than all theother evils of humanity put together," said Barker. "That is theticker."
"I perceive that it ticks," said Claudius. And Barker explained howevery variation in the market was instantly transmitted to every placeof business, to every club, and to many private houses in New York, bymeans of a simple arrangement of symbols--how "Gr. S." meant GreenSwash, and "N.P. pr." "North Pacific, preferred," and many other things.Claudius thought it an ingenious contrivance, but said it must be verywearing on the nerves.
"It is the pulse of New York," said Barker. "It is the croupier callingout from morning till night 'trente-sept, rouge, impair,' and then'Messieurs faites votre jeu--le jeu est fait.' When stock goes down youbuy, when it goes up you sell. That is the whole secret."
"I think it is very like gambling," said Claudius.
"So it is. But we never gamble here, though we have a ticker to see whatother people are doing. Besides, it tells you everything. Horse-racing,baseball, steamers, births, deaths, and marriages; corn, wheat, tobacco,and cotton. Nobody can live here without a ticker."
And after this they went out into the street again, and Mr. Scratch tookoff his hat to Claudius, which is the highest token of unusual esteemand respect of which "the street" is capable, and in a moment the heelsof his boots were seen disappearing into the dense crowd. Claudius andBarker walked on, and crossed Broadway; a few steps farther, and theDoctor was brought face to face with the triumph of business overprivacy--the elevated railway. He had caught a glimpse of portions of itin the morning, but had supposed the beams and trestles to bescaffoldings for buildings. He stood a few moments in profound thought,contemplating and comprehending this triumph of wheels.
"It is a great invention," he said quietly. And when they were seated inthe long airy car, he looked out of the window, and asked whether thepeople in the first stories of the houses did not find it verydisagreeable to have trains running by their windows all day.
"The social and municipal economy of New York," explained Mr. Barker,"consists in one-third of the population everlastingly protestingagainst the outrageous things done by the other two-thirds. One-thirdfights another third, and the neutral third takes the fees of bothparties. All that remains is handed over to the deserving poor."
"That is the reason, I suppose, why there are so few poor in New York,"observed the Doctor with a smile.
"Exactly," said Barker; "they go West."
"I would like to discuss the political economy of this country with you,when I have been here six months."
And so they went up town, and Claudius watched everything with interest,and occasionally made a remark. Barker was obliged to go on, and he putClaudius out on the platform at the station nearest his hotel, and whichwas in fact at the same cross-street. As Claudius ascended the steps hewas overtaken by the Duke, who was breathless with running.
"I--am afraid--it is too late," he panted; "come along," and he seizedClaudius by the arm and dragged him to the corner of Fifth Avenue,before he could ask any questions.
"What is the matter?" asked the Doctor, looking about.
"He is gone," said the Duke, who had recovered his speech, "I knew hewould, but I thought there was time. I was with a friend of mine, and Ihad just left him when I saw you, and as I have asked him to dinner Iwanted to introduce you first. But he is always in such a hurry. Nowhereto be seen. Probably down town by this time." They turned back and wentin. The Duke asked for the ladies. The Countess and her companion hadgone to drive in the park, but Lady Victoria was upstairs.
"Vick, I am going to have a man to dinner--of course we will all dinetogether the first night ashore--a man you have heard me speak of; youwill like him amazingly."
"Who is he?"
"He is the uncle of the whole human race."
"Including the peerage?" laughed Lady Victoria.
"Peerage? I should think so. The whole of Debrett and the _Almanach deGotha_. Nobility and gentry, the Emperor of China and the North AmericanIndians."
"That will suit Miss Skeat. She is always talking about the NorthAmerican Indians. I think I know who it is."
"Of course you do, and now he is coming." There was a pause. "Vick, mayI smoke?"
"Oh yes, if you like." His Grace lit a cigarette.
"Vick, I am afraid you have had a dreadfully stupid time of it on thistrip. I am so sorry. Those people turned out rather differently fromwhat I had expected." The Duke was fond of his sister, though she wasmuch younger than he, and he began to reflect that she had been poorlyprovided for, as he had engaged Barker most of their time.
"Not at all. You know I am so fond of the sea and the open air, and Ihave enjoyed it all so much. Besides--"
"It is awfully good of you to say so, my dear, but I don't believe aword of it. 'Besides'--you were going to say something."
"Was I? Oh yes. Besides, you could not have had another man, you know,because it would have spoiled the table."
"No, but I was so selfish about Barker, because he can play cards, andClaudius would not, or could not."
"I am not sorry for that, exactly," said Lady Victoria. "You remember,we talked about him once. I do not like Mr. Barker very much."
"Oh, he is no end of a good fellow in his way," said her brother. "Haveyou--a--any reason for not liking him, Vick?"
"I think he is spiteful. He says such horrid things."
"Does he? What about?" said the Duke indifferently, as he tore a bit ofcharred paper from the end of his cigarette, which had burned badly. Shedid not answer at first. He inspected the cigarette, puffed it intoactive life again, and looked up.
"What about, Vick?"
"About his friend--about Doctor Claudius. I like Doctor Claudius." LadyVictoria smoothed her rebellious brown hair at the huge over-giltpier-glass of the little drawing-room which she and Margaret had incommon.
"I like him too," said the Duke. "He is a gentleman. Why don't you doyour hair like the American women--all fuzzy, over your eyes? I shouldthink it would be much less trouble."
"It's not neat," said her ladyship, still looking into the glass. Thensuddenly, "Do you know what I think?"
"Well?"
"I believe Mr. Barker would like to marry Margaret himself."
"Pshaw! Victoria, don't talk nonsense. Who ever heard of such a thing!The Duke rose and walked once up and down the room; then he sat downagain in the same place. He was not pleased at the suggestion.
"Why is it such nonsense?" she asked.
"Any number of reasons. Besides, she would not have him."
"That would not prevent him from wishing to marry her."
"No, of course not, but--well, it's great stuff." He looked a littlepuzzled, as if he found it hard to say exactly why he objected to theidea.
"You would be very glad if Claudius married her, would you not?" askedhis sister.
"Glad--I don't know--yes, I suppose so."
"But you pretend to like Mr. Barker a great deal more than you likeDoctor Claudius," said she argumentatively.
"I know him better," said the Duke; "I have known Barker several years."
"And he is rich--and that, and why should he not think of proposing toMargaret?"
"Because--well I don't know, but it would be so deuced inappropriate,"in which expression the honest-hearted Englishman struck the truth,going for it with his head down, after the manner of his people.
"At first he was very nice," said Lady Victoria, who had gained a point,though for what purpose she hardly knew; "but after a while he began tosay disagreeable things. He hinted in all sorts of ways that Claudiuswas not exactly a gentleman, and that no one knew where he came from,and that he ought not to make love to Margaret, and so on, till I wantedto box his ears;" and she waxed warm in her wrath, which was really duein great part to the fact that Mr. Barker was personally not exactly toher taste. If she had liked him she would have thought differently ofthe things he said. But her brother was angry too by this time, for heremembered a conversation he had had with Barker on the same topic.
"I told Barker once that Claudius was a gentleman, every inch of him,and I should think that was enough. As if I did not know--it's too bad,upon my word!" And the ducal forehead reddened angrily. The fact wasthat both he and his sister had taken an unaccountable fancy to thisstrange Northman, with his quiet ways and his unaffected courtesy, andat the present moment they would have quarrelled with their best friendsrather than hear a word against him. "My guest, too, and on my yacht,"he went on; and it did his sister good to see him angry--"it's true hebrought him, and introduced him to me." Then a bright idea struck him."And if Claudius were not a gentleman, what the deuce right had Barkerto bring him to me at all, eh? Wasn't it his business to find out? Myword! I would like to ask him that, and if I find him I will." LadyVictoria had no intention of making mischief between her brother and Mr.Barker. But she did not like the American, and she thought Barker wasturning the Duke into a miner, or a farmer, or a greengrocer, orsomething--it was not quite clear. But she wished him out of the way,and fate had given her a powerful weapon. It was just that sort ofdouble-handedness that the Duke most hated of all things in the earth.Moreover, he knew his sister never exaggerated, and that what she hadtold him was of necessity perfectly true.
Woe to Mr. Silas B. Barker junior if he came in the Duke's way thatevening!
"I suppose he is coming to dinner?" said the Duke after a pause, duringwhich his anger had settled into a comfortable ferocity.
"No," said Lady Victoria; "he sent some flowers and a note of regret."
"Well--I am glad of that. Would you like to go for a drive, Vick?"
"Yes, of all things. I have not been here since I was married"--whichwas about eighteen months, but she had already caught that matronlyphrase--"and I want to see what they have been doing to the Park."
"All right. We'll take Claudius, if he is anywhere about the place."
"Of course," said Lady Victoria. And so the brother and sister preparedto soothe their ruffled feelings by making much of the man who was "agentleman." But they were right, for Claudius was all they thought him,and a great deal more too, as they discovered in the sequel.
Having driven in the Park, the Duke insisting that Claudius should sitin the place of honour with Lady Victoria, and having criticised totheir satisfaction the few equipages they met--for it was too early forNew York--they went back to their hotel, and dispersed to dress fordi
nner. The Duke, as he had told his sister, had invited his friend todine. They all sat together waiting his arrival. Punctual to the moment,the door opened, and Mr. Horace Bellingham beamed upon the assembledparty. Ay, but he was a sight to do good to the souls of the hungry andthirsty, and of the poor, and in misery!
He requires description, not that any pen can describe him, but no oneever saw him who did not immediately wish to try. He was short,decidedly; but a broad deep chest and long powerful arms had given himmany an advantage over taller adversaries in strange barbarous lands. Hewas perfectly bald, but that must have been because Nature had not theheart to cover such a wonderful cranium from the admiring gaze ofphrenologists. A sweeping moustache and a long imperial of snowy whitesat well on the ruddy tan of his complexion, and gave him an air at oncemartial and diplomatic. He was dressed in the most perfect of Londonclothes, and there were superb diamonds in his shirt, while a pricelesssapphire sparkled, in a plain gold setting, on his broad, brown hand. Heis the only man of his time who can wear precious stones withoutvulgarity. He moves like a king and has the air of the old school inevery gesture. His dark eyes are brighter than his diamonds, and hislook, for all his white beard and seventy years, is as young and freshas the rose he wears in his coat.
There are some people who turn gray, but who do not grow hoary, whosefaces are furrowed but not wrinkled, whose hearts are sore wounded inmany places, but are not dead. There is a youth that bids defiance toage, and there is a kindness which laughs at the world's rough usage.These are they who have returned good for evil, not having learned it asa lesson of righteousness, but because they have no evil in them toreturn upon others. Whom the gods love die young, and they die youngbecause they never grow old. The poet, who at the verge of death saidthis, said it of, and to, this very man.
The Duke went through the introductions, first to the Countess, then toMiss Skeat, then to his sister, and last of all to Claudius, who hadbeen intently watching the newcomer. Mr. Bellingham paused beforeClaudius, and looked up in a way peculiarly his own, without raising hishead. He had of course heard in New York of the strange fortune that hadbefallen Claudius on the death of the well-known Mr. Lindstrand, and nowhe stood a minute trying to take the measure of the individual beforehim, not in the least overcome by the physical proportions of the outerman, but struck by the intellectual face and forehead that surmountedsuch a tower of strength.
"I was in Heidelberg myself--a student," said he, his face lighting upwith coming reminiscences, "but that was long before you were born,fifty years ago."
"I fancy it is little changed," said Claudius.
"I would like to go back to the Badischer Hof. I remember once--" but hebroke off short and turned to the Countess, and sat down beside her. Heknew all her people in America and her husband's people abroad. Heimmediately began telling her a story of her grandmother, with a _verve_and graphic spirit that enchanted Margaret, for she liked clever oldmen. Besides he is not old. It is not so long since--well, it is a longstory. However, in less than one minute the assembled guests werelistening to the old-time tale of Margaret's ancestress, and the waiterpaused breathless on the threshold to hear the end, before he announceddinner.
There are two very different ways of dining--dining with Mr. Bellingham,and dining without him. But for those who have dined with him, allother prandial arrangements are an empty sham. At least so Claudius saidto Margaret in an aside, when they got to the fruit. And Margaret, wholooked wonderfully beautiful with a single band of gold through herblack hair, laughed her assent, and said it was hopeless for the men ofthis day to enter the lists against the veterans of the _ancien regime_.And Claudius was not in the least hurt by the comparison, odious thoughit would have been to Mr. Barker, had he been there. Claudius had plentyof vanity, but it did not assume the personal type. Some people call acertain form of vanity pride. It is the same thing on a larger scale.Vanity is to pride what nervousness is to nerve, what morbid conscienceis to manly goodness, what the letter of the law is to the spirit.
Before they rose from the table, Mr. Bellingham proposed that theyshould adjourn to Newport on the following day. He said it was too earlyto be in New York and that Newport was still gay; at all events, theweather promised well, and they need not stay more than twenty-fourhours unless they pleased. The proposition was carried unanimously, theDuke making a condition that he should be left in peace and not"entertained in a handsome manner by the _elite_ of our Newportmillionaires"--as the local papers generally have it. Lady Victoriawould not have objected to the operation of "being entertained" byNewport, for it amused her to see people, but of course she would enjoyherself very well without it. She always enjoyed herself, even when shewent for a walk in the rain on a slippery Yorkshire road, all bundled upin waterproofs and hoods and things for her poor people--she enjoyed itall.
As for Claudius, he knew that if he went to Newport he must of necessitystay with the Barkers, but as he had not yet learned to look at Mr.Barker in the light of a rival, he thought this would be ratherconvenient than otherwise. The fact that he would be within easy reachof Margaret was uppermost in his mind.
During the last two days his relations with her had been of thehappiest. There was an understanding between them, which took the placeof a great deal of conversation. Claudius felt that his error inspeaking too boldly had been retrieved, if not atoned for, and thathenceforward his position was assured. He was only to be a friend, itwas true, but he still felt that from friendship to love was but a step,and that the time would come. He thought of the mighty wooings of theheroes of his Northern home, and he felt in him their strength and theirconstancy. What were other men that he should think of them? He was heraccepted friend of all others. She had said she hoped to find in himwhat she had never found before; and were not her words "always,always!" still ringing in his ears? She had found it then in him, thisrare quality of friendship; she had found more,--a man who was a friendand yet a lover, but who could curb the strong passion to the semblanceand docility of the gentler feeling. And when at last she should givethe long-desired sign, the single glance that bids love speak, she wouldfind such a lover as was not even dreamt of among the gods of theGreeks, nor yet among berserk heroes of ice and storm and battle. Hefelt to-day that he could endure to the end, for the end was worthy allendurance.
And now he sat by her side and looked down into her face when she spoke,and they laughed together. Verily was Claudius the proudest man in allearth's quarters, and his blue eyes flashed a deep fire, and hisnostrils expanded with the breath of a victory won. Mr. Bellingham, onthe other side of the table, sparkled with a wit and grace that were tomodern table-talk what a rare flagon of old madeira, crusted with years,but brimming with the imperishable strength and perfume of eternalyouth, might be to a gaudily-ticketed bottle of California champagne,effervescent, machine-made, cheap, and nasty. And his glancecomprehended the pair, and loved them. He thought they were like apicture of the North and of the South; and the thought called upmemories in his brave old breast of a struggle that shook the earth toher foundations, and made him think of problems yet unsolved. He sat inhis place silent for some minutes, and the broad brown hand stroked thesnowy beard in deep thought, so that the conversation flagged, and theDuke began to talk about the voyage. But Mr. Bellingham took hisbrimming glass, filled with the wine that ripened in the sun when hehimself was but a little boy, and he held it a moment to the light; thejuice was clearer now than it had been that day sixty years, and thehand that held the goblet was as a hand of iron for strength andsteadiness, though the dark fingers might have plucked the grapes on theday they were pressed. And with an old-time motion he carried it to hislips, then paused one instant, then drank it slowly, slowly to the lastdrop. It was a toast, but the speech was unspoken, and none knew to whomor to what he drained the measure. In a little time he began to speakagain; the conversation turned upon mutual friends in England, and thedinner was at an end.
But all through the evening Claudius never left Margaret's s
ide. Hefelt that he was bridging over the difference between life at sea andlife on land--that he was asserting his right to maintain in adrawing-room the privileges he had gained on the deck of the _Streak_.And Margaret, moreover, was especially friendly to-night, for she toofelt the difference, and recognised that, after all, life on shore isthe freer. There are certain conventionalities of a drawing-room that aman is less likely to break through, more certain to remember, than theunwritten rules of cruising etiquette. Most men who have led a free lifeare a little less likely to make love under the restraint of a white tiethan they are when untrammelled by restraints of dress, which alwaysimply some restraint of freedom.
At least Margaret thought so. And Claudius felt it, even though he wouldnot acknowledge it. They talked about the voyage; about what they hadsaid and done, about the accident, and a hundred other things. There isa moment in acquaintance, in friendship, and in love, when two peoplebecome suddenly aware that they have a common past. Days, weeks, ormonths have been spent in conversation, in reading, perhaps in toil anddanger, and they have not thought much about it. But one day they wakeup to the fact that these little or great things bind them, as formingthe portion of their lives that have touched; and as they talk over theincidents they remember they feel unaccountably drawn to each other bythe past. Margaret and Claudius knew this on the first evening theyspent together on shore. The confusion of landing, the custom-house, thestrange quarters in the great hotel--all composed a drop-curtainshutting off the ocean scene, and ending thus an episode of theirlife-drama. A new act was beginning for them, and they both knew howmuch might depend on the way in which it was begun, and neither daredplan how it should end. At all events, they were not to be separatedyet, and neither anticipated such a thing.
Little by little their voices dropped as they talked, and they reckedlittle of the others, as the dark cheek of the woman flushed withinterest, and the blue light shone in the man's eyes. Their companionson the voyage were well used to seeing them thus together, and hardlynoticed them, but Mr. Bellingham's bright eyes stole a glance from timeto time at the beautiful pair in their corner, and the stories of youthand daring and love, that he seemed so full of this evening, flashedwith an unwonted brilliancy. He made up his mind that the two weredesperately, hopelessly, in love, and he had taken a fancy to Claudiusfrom the first. There was no reason why they should not be, and he lovedto build up romances, always ending happily, in his fertile imagination.
But at last it was "good-night." Mr. Bellingham was not the man to spendthe entire evening in one house, and he moved towards Margaret, hatingto disturb the couple, but yet determined to do it. He rose, therefore,still talking, and, as the Duke rose also, cleverly led him round thechairs until within speaking distance of Margaret, who was stillabsorbed in her conversation. Then, having finished the one thread, heturned round.
"By the by, Countess," he said, "I remember once--" and he told agraceful anecdote of Margaret's grandmother, which delighted every one,after which he bowed, like a young lover of twenty, to each of the threeladies, and departed.
The party dispersed, the Duke and Claudius for half an hour's chat anda cigar, and the ladies to their rooms. But Claudius and Margaretlingered one moment in their corner, standing.
"Has it been a happy day for you?" he asked, as she gave her hand.
"Yes, it has been happy. May there be many like it!" she answered.
"There shall be," said Claudius; "good-night, Countess."
"Good-night--good-night, Claudius."
The Duke waited fully ten minutes for the Doctor. It was the second timeshe had spoken his name without the formality of a prefix, and Claudiusstood where she left him, thinking. There was nothing so veryextraordinary in it, after all, he thought. Foreign women, especiallyRussians, are accustomed to omit any title or prefix, and to call theirintimate friends by their simple names, and it means nothing. But hervoice was so wonderful. He never knew his name sounded so sweetbefore--the consonants and vowels, like the swing and fall of a deepsilver bell in perfect cadence. "A little longer," thought Claudius,"and it shall be hers as well as mine." He took a book from the tableabsently, and had opened it when he suddenly recollected the Duke, putit down and left the room.
Soon a noiseless individual in a white waistcoat and a dress-coat puthis head in at the door, advanced, straightened the chairs, closed thebook the Doctor had opened, put the gas out and went away, shutting thedoor for the night, and leaving the room to its recollections. Whatsleepless nights the chairs and heavy-gilt glasses and gorgeous carpetsof a hotel must pass, puzzling over the fragments of history that areenacted in their presence!
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