ttle
later, Curtis gave his hat and coat to a negro, and decided to dine in
the hotel. Evidently, the place still retained its old-time repute as
a family and commercial resort. The family element was in evidence at
some of the tables, while, in the case of solitary diners, each man
could have been labeled Pittsburg, Chicago, or Philadelphia, almost
without error, by those acquainted with the industrial life of the
United States.

He ate well, if simply, and treated himself to a small bottle of a
noted champagne. At half-past seven, meaning to give Devar ten
minutes' grace, he ordered coffee and a glass of green Chartreuse. As
a time-killer, there is no liqueur more potent, but, regarded in the
light of subsequent occurrences, it would be hard to say exactly how
far the cunning monkish decoction helped in determining his wayward
actions. Undoubtedly, some fantastic influence carried him beyond
those bounds of calm self-possession within which everyone who knew
John Delancy Curtis would have expected to find him. His subsequent
light-headedness, his placid acceptance of a mad romance as the one
thing that was inevitable, his ready yielding to impulse, his no less
stubborn refusal to return to the beaten path of common sense--these
unlikely traits in a character gifted with the New England dourness of
purpose can only be explained, if at all, as arising from some
unsuspected hereditary streak of knight-errantry brought into sudden
and exotic life by the good wines of France.

Be that as it may, at twenty minutes to eight he paid what he owed,
lighted a cigar, donned his hat, and, still carrying the overcoat, was
walking to the office to leave word about the key, when his attention
was attracted by the peculiar behavior of the man who had pushed
against him at the cigar counter.

This person, apparently obeying a signal from another man of his own
type who had just emerged from the elevator, hastened from the cafe,
and the two ran to the door. Now, the weather had been mild during the
afternoon, and the revolving shutters of the doorway were folded back
to allow of the overheated hall being cooled. A porter stood there,
and it was ascertained afterwards that, noticing a certain air of
flurry and confusion about the foreigners, he asked if they wanted a
taxi. They gave no heed, but continued to gaze up and down the street,
as though they awaited someone. Equally did they seem to expect, or
dread, an apparition