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Evidently we will have to go and find out for ourselves." He pulled the check-cord and gave the driver the new direction. Pure foolishness, of course, but Indiman was not to be put out of his humor. Up one flight of stairs to a large, low-ceilinged hall that was jammed to suffocation.
He turned as I ran up. "Good!" he said, and offered me his cigarette-case. "The big fellow is coming down," I urged. "Have a light," said Indiman. "And now, my son, allons!" I stepped into the coach, and Indiman after me. There was a sound of angry voices from the hall above; two or three men dashed down the stairway, others following. "Drive on!" shouted Indiman, and the carriage started.
"I don't know, I can't be sure they were almost consumed when I shut the door." "An imperfect copy," I hazarded. "Some day we will take a trip to the Hermitage to make sure," answered Indiman. "'Where ignorance is bliss, etc. What do you think, Blake?" he continued, turning to our companion. "It's all the same to me, sir," answered Blake, a little ruefully.
Near the window was a small counter, behind which Madame L. Hernandez immediately installed herself, and from this vantage-point she proceeded to inspect us with cool deliberation, fanning herself the while with a huge palm-leaf. "You wish to buy a hat?" she said, tentatively. "That one," answered Indiman, stubbornly " that hat on the model's head." "Bah!
At about four o'clock I came in and mended the fire in the grate, for the house was growing chilly. Indiman looked over at me and smiled brightly. "Well, it's good to be out of the old ruts, isn't it?" he said. "'Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay, as some one has truthfully remarked. He was a philosopher, that fellow.
It was as Indiman said; each of the canvas stretchers carried a small gummed label, the address of a Fulton Street art-supply shop. "That settles the question," remarked the chief of detectives. "I may say finally that I have this cable from the Minister of Police at St.
You had better leave the club at once; this atmosphere is not the most wholesome for a man in your position." Mr. Sydenham proved most amenable to all of Indiman's suggestions, and we did not lose sight of him until he was finally on his way uptown in a Columbus Avenue car. "A good subject," remarked Indiman, "and it should be comparatively easy to get at the submerged consciousness in his case.
Now, Indiman is not musical, and I had some trouble in convincing him that within the compass of a semitone a veritable gulf may yawn. This particular organ played the phrase in the third bar correctly F sharp and not F natural and consequently it could not be the same instrument that had vexed my ears half an hour ago at No. 4020 Madison Avenue.
It was perfectly new, and this was probably its first trip on the road. The lock was of simple construction. It should be easy to find a key to fit it, and one of mine, with a little filing, did the trick. The bolt shot back, and Indiman unhesitatingly threw up the lid.
There were bookcases, rugs, pictures, a big mahogany writing-table, an open fireplace, easy-chairs everything to make life comfortable. "And the couch over there is my bed," concluded Indiman. "I'm pretty well fixed, you see." "Decidedly so." "Intellectual diversion in abundance; even the artistic element is not wholly wanting."
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