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Updated: June 19, 2025
At the entrance to the Milan our omnibus was stopped for several moments whilst motors and carriages of all descriptions, with their load of men and women in evening clothes, passed slowly by and turned in at the courtyard. We found ourselves at last at the doors of the hotel, and I received the usual welcome from my friend the hall-porter. "Back again once more, you see, Ashley," I remarked.
The hall-porter was there, a stout, plethoric personage, not given to many words, who was at this moment standing with his master's umbrella in his hand, looking as though he would fain be of some use to somebody, if any such utility were compatible with the purposes of his existence.
The hall-porter was not sure whether the duchess was at home, and the groom of the chambers went to see. Lothair had never experienced this form. When the groom of the chambers came down again, he gave her grace's compliments; but she had a headache, and was obliged to lie down, and was sorry she could not see Lothair, who went away livid. Crecy House was only yards from St.
Delora was scarcely likely to have left behind any reliable details of his intentions at such a place. I drove on to the Milan, and entered the Court with a curious little thrill of interest. The hall-porter welcomed me with a smile. "Glad to see you back again, Captain Rotherby," he said. "Have you any luggage?" "None," I answered. "I am not sure whether I shall be staying."
Clancey was running down the street towards Piccadilly as fast as his legs could carry him. Another shock was in store for poor Bobby. Jumping out of his taxi, he presented himself to the hall-porter, armed with his huge paper parcel from the florist. "For Madame de Corantin," he said. The porter looked at him; he knew him well and accepted the offering hesitatingly.
It was a quarter to nine, and the head hall-porter was abdicating his pagoda to the head night-porter, and telling him the necessary secrets of the day. These two lords, before whom the motley panorama of human existence was continually being enrolled, held a portentous confabulation night and morning. They had no illusions; they knew life.
I told myself that I would go to sleep, and I stayed awake until daylight. All the time there was only one thought in my brain! At a few minutes past nine on the following morning, I was standing outside the front door of the Court watching the piling of my luggage on to a four-wheel cab. The hall-porter stood by my side, superintending the efforts of his myrmidons.
"Oh, yes!" she said. "That's the gentleman who came in with Mr. Marbury I should have known him in a thousand. Anybody would recognize him from that perhaps you'd let our hall-porter and the waiter I mentioned just now look at it?" "I'll see them separately and see if they've ever seen a man who resembles this," replied Spargo.
"And the other gentleman?" asked Rathbury. "The other gentleman," answered the landlady, "went out with him. The hall-porter said they turned towards the station. And that was the last anybody in this house saw of Mr. Marbury. He certainly never came back." "That," observed Rathbury with a quiet smile, "that is quite certain, ma'am?
But the hall-porter remembered the American gentleman who had driven up with many pieces of luggage, and who, although it was out of season, and many suites in the hotel were vacant, had found none to suit him. He had then set forth on foot, having left word that his trunks be sent after him. The address he gave was a house in Sowell Street.
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