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The old colored man was quite seventy years of age, but still an erect and dignified major-domo. From his white, wool-fringed old head, to the toes of his white canvas shoes, he was immaculate. No linen could have been more faultlessly laundered than Jerome's; no serviette more neatly folded. All was in harmony excepting the old man's face; that was troubled.
Mardon's vulgar inquisitiveness, such inquisitiveness as might have been expected from a fellow who tucked his serviette under his chin. Peel-Swynnerton knew exactly how long he would stay. He would stay until the day after the morrow; he had only about fifty francs in his pocket.
"You thought!" said Thomas Batchgrew, gazing at the aged weakling as at an insane criminal. "Was this just after I left?" Mrs. Maldon nodded apologetically. "When I woke up the first time in the night, it struck me like a flash: Had I taken the serviette and ring up with the notes? I am liable to do that sort of thing. I'm an old woman it's no use denying it."
The Missing Link sat down, took off his hat, and closed it. Then he examined the bill of fare, and pointed to an item. While Madame was fulfilling the order Mahdi lounged in his chair, playing with the serviette, which he took from the ring, and spread on his lap.
My question restored the garcon to himself. "Two, hours, Monsieur, two hours," and twirling his serviette with an air of exceeding importance, off went my melancholy acquaintance to compliment new customers, and complain of his digestion. After I had arranged myself and my whiskers two very distinct affairs yawned three times, and drank two bottles of soda water, I strolled into the town.
He shook out the diminutive serviette he had brought for her and spread it across her lap; he poured her coffee and sweetened it according to direction; he even buttered her "riz" biscuits and poured the cream on her berries. "Are ye laboring under the delusion that the duke's daughter was helpless, entirely?" she asked, at length. The tinker shook an emphatic negative.
My companion pushed into the hall, I followed her, and almost at the same moment a still larger and perhaps grosser woman than my friend, with the same features and complexion, came out of a room to the left with, a serviette in her hand. "Sophie!" "Jane!" cried my companion, and pointing to me she said: "I've brought you a new boarder."
He detested the fellow, quite inexcusably, perhaps because his serviette was tucked under his chin; but he saw that the fellow was one of your determined talkers, who always win in the end. Moreover, as being clearly not an ordinary tourist in Paris, the fellow mildly excited his curiosity. "I live here," said the other. "Very convenient for a bachelor, you know. Have done for years.
"A table for two," he drawled Maitland-wise, "In a corner somewhere, away from the crowd, you know." "This way, if you please, Mr. Maitland." "By the way," suggested the burglar, unfolding his serviette and glancing keenly about the room, which, by good chance, was thinly populated, "by the way, you know, you haven't told me your name yet." "Hickey John W. Hickey, Detective Bureau." "Thank you."
The identity of the "someone" to whom the Mangars refer, I never established. I shall welcome any particulars respecting the history of the serviette. 'Very truly yours, "Sir Charles Abingdon was poisoned," said Wessex in a hushed voice. "For the girl's sake I hate the idea, but we shall have to get an exhumation order." "It is impossible," returned Innes, shortly. "He was cremated."
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