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Updated: September 23, 2025
"Another three years like the last and I shall have the pleasure of numbering at least three millionaires among my acquaintances." "Shall we ?" Mr. Burton suggested, glancing towards Waddington. Mr. Waddington nodded, but Mr. Bomford took up his hat. He was dressed in the height of subdued fashion. His clothes and manners would have graced a Cabinet Minister.
Have you no desire to travel? Have you no desire to see the famous picture galleries and cities of the Continent, cities which have been the birthplaces of the men whose works you and your son in days to come will regard with so much reverence?" "I should like to travel very much indeed," Burton admitted. "It is the opportunity to travel which we offer you," Mr. Bomford reminded him.
The two men were sitting in exactly the same positions, their faces were turned towards him, and their eyes seemed to be following his movements. Yet there was a change. The professor was no longer the absorbed, mildly benevolent man of science. Mr. Bomford had lost his commonplace expression. There was a new thing in their faces, something eager, ominous.
It was only the impulse which was lacking. He sat dreaming there until he fell into a deep sleep. Mr. Bomford in his town clothes was a strikingly adequate reflection of the fashion of the times. From the tips of his patent boots, his neatly tied black satin tie, his waistcoat with its immaculate white slip, to his glossy silk hat, he was an entirely satisfactory reproduction.
"Listen to what Mr. Bomford has to say." Mr. Bomford cleared his throat, scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully, and half emptied his glass of claret. "Our scheme, my young friend," He said condescendingly, "is worthy even of your consideration. You are, I understand, gifted with some powers of observation which you have turned to lucrative account.
A gentle preference for truth, a dawning appreciation of beauty, a gradual withdrawal from the grosser things of life these may, perhaps, be conceived after a week's trial of the food. Then a regular course of it say for six months or so would build up these tendencies till they became a part of character. The change, as you see, would not be too sudden. That is my idea, Bomford.
Burton, for a moment, half closed his eyes. "I remember," he said. "Last night I didn't think he would care about it. I find I was mistaken." Mr. Bunsome looked at his watch. "I am meeting Mr. Cowper this afternoon," he said, "and Mr. Bomford.
To rob me, to throw me out, to take my treasure from me by force?" "You are my father's guest," she reminded him softly. "He will not forget it." "There are greater things in the world," he went on, "than the obligations of hospitality. There are tides which sweep away the landmarks of nature herself. Your father is thirsty for knowledge. This man Bomford is his friend.
"Once convince a man," Mr. Bomford continued, "that you are offering him something which will improve his health, and he is yours, or rather his money is his two and sixpence or whatever particular sum you may have designed to relieve him of. It is for that reason that you see the pages of the magazines and newspapers filled with advertisements of new cures for ancient diseases.
Burton," he said, "what you think of your surroundings of the restaurant and your neighbors on every side?" "The restaurant is very beautiful," Burton admitted. "The whole place seems delightful. One can only judge of the people by their appearance. That, at any rate, is in their favor." Mr. Bomford nodded approvingly. "I will admit, Mr.
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