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It was a warm and cheerful fog, stirred by little wind, but moving, shifting, and boiling as by its own volatile nature, rolling up black from below and dancing in silvery splendor overhead As a fog it could not have been improved; as a medium for viewing the landscape it was a failure and we lay down upon the Sybarite couch of moss, as in a Russian bath, to await revelations.
It made the problem simpler, to have the boy alive to his peril. Pausing, P. Sybarite met November's glare with eyes informed with an expression amazingly remote and dispassionate, and in a level and toneless voice addressed him. "I've a message for you a hurry call won't keep " "Well?" snapped the gangster. "What's it about? Spit it out!"
Neither there nor at adjoining Southsea could we find a sign of the Variety Star, Ras Fendihook, and still less of the obscure Liosha. We dined at a Southsea hotel. We dined very well. On that I insisted without much expenditure of nervous force. Jaffery rails at me for a Sybarite and what not, but I have never seen him refuse viands on account of succulency or wine on account of flavour.
"Tunin' up!" commented the chauffeur grimly. "Sounds to me like they was about ready to commence!" P. Sybarite shut his teeth on a nervous tremor and lost a shade or two of colour. "Ready?" he said with difficulty.
"And after dinner," P. Sybarite pursued evenly, "you're going to attend a very quiet little wedding party." "Whose, for God's sake?" "Marian's and mine; and the only reason why you can't be best man is that the best man will be my cousin, Peter Kenny." "Is that straight?" "On the level." George concluded that there was sanity in P. Sybarite's eyes.
There was a pause. P. Sybarite blinked furiously. "I've heard that name," he said quietly, at length. "Isn't she old Brian's ward the girl who disappeared recently?" "She didn't disappear, really. She's been staying with friends told me so herself. That's all the foundation the Journal had for its story." "Friends?" "So she said." "Did she name them?" "No " "Or say where?"
Bloated though he was with lawless wealth and fat with insufferable self-satisfaction, P. Sybarite, trotting by the side of his host, was dwarfed alike in dignity and in physique, strongly resembling an especially cocky and ragged Airedale being tolerated by a well-groomed St. Bernard.
I'm the little guy that put the speck in Respectability: I'm the noisy little skeleton in the cupboard of your conscience. Don't you know me now?" Shaynon bent to peer into the face exposed as P. Sybarite pushed back his hat; stared an instant, goggling; wheeled about, and flung heavily toward his taxicab. "The Bizarre!" wheezed he to the chauffeur; and dodging in, banged the door.
I know two men, one of whom lived in ancient, and the other in modern times, who had much more pleasure in eating than either of you through the whole course of your lives. Apicius. One of these happy epicures, I presume, was a Sybarite, and the other a French gentleman settled in the West Indies. Mercury. No; one was a Spartan soldier, and the other an English farmer.
Ceasing, a short wait followed and then a faint "Aah!" of satisfaction, with the thump of a glass set down upon some hard surface. And at once, before P. Sybarite could by any means reconcile these noises with the summons at the front door that had been ignored within the quarter-hour, soft footfalls became audible in the private hall, shuffling toward the dining-room.
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