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As they greeted each other like reunited brothers there was nothing in the manner of either to indicate that they had parted on any but the happiest terms, though Mr. Penrose's gaze wavered for an instant when he asked: "Is my room ready?" "Since the day before yesterday," replied Mr. Cone, turning to the key-rack. Then generously: "What kind of a summer did you have? I trust, a pleasant one."
During the day he lives in the office, lying on the counter or the key-rack, but at night he retires with his master at eleven or twelve o'clock, sleeping in his own basket in the bathroom, and waking his master promptly at seven every morning. Tix's picture hangs in the office of his hotel, and is becoming as famous as the cat.
The landlord, a tragic person in a large felt hat, rose from a business table under the key-rack, and came forward, removing his hat with both hands as he did so. "Sir, I salute you. May I inquire what is your charge for artists?" inquired Berthelini, with a courtesy at once splendid and insinuating. "For artists?" said the landlord. His countenance fell and the smile of welcome disappeared.
"We've been expecting you, Tom," said the Doctor. "We're all here except Parker, and he wired he'd arrive to-morrow," "Where's Murray?" "He's around somewhere." Slater turned a resentful, smoldering gaze upon the hotel clerk, and looked about him for a chair with a detachable leg, but the object of his regard disappeared abruptly behind the key-rack. "This rat-brained party said he hadn't come."
I turned once more to the clerk who was now busy at the key-rack. "Haven't you really a corner? I wouldn't mind where it was, as it is only for the night. Come now..." "Very sorry, saire. We have two gentlemen sleeping in ze bathrooms already. If you had reserved..." And he shrugged his shoulders and bent towards a visitor who was demanding his key. I turned away with rage in my heart.
The landlord, a tragic person in a large felt hat, rose from a business-table under the key-rack, and came forward, removing his hat with both hands as he did so. "Sir, I salute you. May I inquire what is your charge for artists?" inquired Berthelini, with a courtesy at once splendid and insinuating. "For artists?" said the landlord. His countenance fell and the smile of welcome disappeared.
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