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Updated: June 2, 2025
My apartment was numbered 48 by the way, who ever saw No. 1 in a hotel, or upon a watch? and next door that is, at No. 49 dwelt a very dignified-looking gentleman, always addressed as M. Jerome.
The carriage paused in front of the Scandinavian Hotel. The proprietor, a dignified-looking personage, with a long, white beard, and a decidedly professional air, promptly appeared in the door-way of his establishment.
Among them was a tall, dignified-looking person, who, on observing Tom and the boys approaching, rose from the ground on which she had been seated and advanced towards them. To their surprise, she addressed them in broken English. "Who you? where you come from?" she asked. Tom replied that they were English, and had escaped from their ship, which had been wrecked some way along the coast.
I pulled the boys forward, though Tom was rather unwilling, and wanted to stay outside; but I was too terribly afraid of losing them to let go of either of their hands for a moment. And so we all three went in. There were several grave, rather dignified-looking gentlemen standing behind the counters one seated at a little desk writing, one or two others putting up bottles and jars on the shelves.
One, in particular, was singularly wise and dignified-looking, with an aspect which was either bland or severe, one could scarcely say which. Another resembled strikingly the typical diplomatist of romance, having a manner suave and infinitely deferential, but oh! so under-handed and insidious and diabolical!
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