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For there is nothing left to say. Five minutes of brisk walking from the cathedral brings one to the entrance of the famous wine-cellars of Pommery et Cie, the property of the ancient family of de Polignac.
The stalls and bazaars display a variety of European beverages very gratifying from the stand-point of a hot and thirsty wayfarer, ranging from Dublin ginger ale to Pommery Sec. California Bartlett pears, with seductive and appetizing labels on their tin coverings, are seen in plenty, and shiny wrappers envelop oblong cakes of Limburger cheese.
"You betcher sweet!" she mumbled, with a mouth full of Pommery. "Say!" said Skinski to me, after we had ordered some breadstuff for the leading lady, "you're not such a late train with the sleight-of-hand gag yourself, Mr. Manager!" "Oh! I'm only a piker at it," I replied, modestly.
I am not so certain that backsliding into the most horrible times of the Malleus maleficarum is impossible." Doctor Wilhelm had rung for a steward, who now entered. Max Pander appeared at the same time. "Doctor von Kammacher, I feel as if we must have some champagne. Adolph," turning to the steward, "a bottle of Pommery." "They're making a big hole in the champagne cellar," said Adolph.
"I never felt more like it myself," he agreed. "The Pommery, George, slightly iced, an aperitif now, and the dinner can take its course. We will linger over the hors d'oeuvres and we are in no hurry." George departed and Tallente smiled across at his companion. It was a wonderful moment, this.
I would have made you to-night as drunk as Bacchus. We drink, and in the stillness the glouglou of his tongue forms a bass to the elfin notes of the Pommery in the soda-water tumbler. Ha! Twin purveyors of the milk of paradise, I wonder like Omar what you buy one-half so precious as the stuff you sell. Motor-cars for Mrs. Pommery and cakes for the little Grenos?
Elodie had gone, disappeared, vanished into space, like the pearl necklaces which Petit Patou used to throw at her across the stage. "But how? When?" I asked, in bewilderment; for Lackaday and Elodie, as Les Petit Patou, seemed as indissoluble as William and Mary or Pommery and Greno.
Close to his side was mademoiselle, her hand already clasping his. Estermen, gaunt, red-eyed, still haggard with fear, sat a few feet away. "Wine!" Falkenberg ordered. "Pommery bottles of it! Never mind if we cannot drink it. Let us look at it. Let us imagine the joys that come, added to those we feel." Already the wine was rushing into their glasses. Falkenberg raised his glass.
"Waiter, a deviled kidney and a pint of Pommery Sec," he cried drowsily, as Chutney pulled him to a sitting position. And then opening his eyes he groaned dismally, "Bless me, I thought I was dining at Gatti's. Why didn't you let me sleep?" "We are approaching the outlet of the lake, Sir Arthur," said Guy. "It is better that all should be awake in case we encounter bad water."
He set down a bottle of champagne upon the table. She laughed softly. "You dear man!" she exclaimed. "Fancy your thinking of it! I thought you scarcely ever touched wine?" "I am not a crank," he replied. "Sometimes my guests have told me that I have quite a reasonably good cellar for a man who takes so little himself. To-night I am going to drink a glass of champagne." "Pommery!" she exclaimed.
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