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Later on we met at breakfast, and he did not thank me. The following paragraph in the "Personal" column of the HERALD caught my eye. "Listen to this," I said, and read it aloud to my sulky host: "'To Mademoiselle D., There are ninety-and-nine kisses still due me, and I propose to collect. Esper Indiman smiled and touched an electric button.
Not the slightest sound nor sign has been vouchsafed from the void. He who was Esper Indiman is gone, like a stone dropped into the gulf, and I have lost something that is not easily replaced a friend. But since it is his wish, there is nothing more to be said. He may return a message may come The gates of chance!
Impossible to conjecture how it had come there, and my own part in the transaction had been purely involuntary; the muscles of the palm had closed unconsciously upon the object presented to it, just as does a baby's. "Mr. Esper Indiman and who the deuce may he be?" The club dining-room was full, but Jeckley hailed me and offered me a seat at his table.
Astor, Astorville, N. G." The loungers about the stove sniggered audibly, but something in the fellow's voice made me forget his insolence. I looked up and into the eyes of Esper Indiman. I think I did it pretty well the cool, ignoring stare with which one is accustomed to put a boor out of countenance.
Nor is it usual to send out a quarter of a dollar to the man as an inducement for him to retire, and then to receive in return a New York Central baggage-check numbered 18329, and reading from Cleveland to New York. Esper Indiman and I exchanged smiles. "This looks like the real thing," said my friend.
I had agreed to meet Esper Indiman at the Utinam and dine there. The weather had turned cold again, for it was the end of our changeable March, and the fireplace in the common room of the club was heaped high with hickory logs, a cheerful sight, were it not for that odious motto, "Non Possumus," graven over the mantel-shelf where it must inevitably meet every eye.
What I would like to do, if I can get past your screen, is to find out if that is the case. If it is, I would then teach you to use your Talent." Medart sat in silent shock. Esper ability? Him?
The young man had his pass-key in his hand, but it was clearly useless to insert it, and he finally turned away, his countenance displaying the bitterest sense of disappointment. His wildly roving eye encountered that of Esper Indiman. "Sir!" he began, impetuously, then checked himself, bowed ceremoniously, and was gone. The Private Letter-Box
"It is my d-duty, sir, to place you under arrest for complicity in the theft of that p-p-picture." Mr. Blake threw back his coat and displayed a detective's shield attached to an aggressively red suspender brace. Esper Indiman bowed ironically. "I presume that my presence at Police Headquarters is necessary?" he inquired. "Yes, sir.
Inkerman " "Indiman, not Inkerman Mr. Esper Indiman. Look at the card." "Never heard the name, sir." "What! Well, then, who does live here?" "Mr. Snell, sir. Mr. Ambrose Johnson Snell. But he's at dinner, and I couldn't disturb him." "Humph!" I fancy that Jeckley swore under his breath as he turned to go. Then the outer door was closed upon him.
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