Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-12-31
CHAPTER u-Continued,

AS he uttered these poesy expressions
aloud. in voice low and not unpleasing,
for all that it was bantering, the head
porter stared at him with mingfing doubt
and alarm: and as II to pronounce these
emotions mutely for the benefit Of the
other. he permitted his eyes to open their
widest. -,
Tut tut; that's all right porter. I
am cursed With the habit Of speaking my
inmost thoughts. Some persons are at
f1cted with insomnia: some fall asleep In
church,; think orally. Beastly habit,
ehY'
The porter then understood that he was
dealing not with a species Of mild lunacy,
but with that kind Of light-hearted cynic-
ism upon which the world Gas porters
know IT. had set its approving seal. In
brief, he smiled family; and If he had
any pleasantly to pass In turn, the APP
proach Of the manager, now clothed
i unexpectedly in deferentiahsm, rele-
gated 1t to the limbo Of things thought
but left unsaid.
Here is a letter for you, Mr.. Ryanne.
Have you any more luggage?''
No" Mr.. Ryanne smiled. Shall I
pay for my room in advance?"
'Oh. no, siri" Ten years ago the man
ager would have blushed at having been
so misunderstood. Your room is Dos"
will you have boy show me the
way?"
Il shall myself attend to that If the
room is not what you wish it may be ex-
changed
THE room is the one I telegraphed for.
L am superstitious to degree. On three
boats 1 have had fine stateroOms num-
bered 2OS. Twice the number Of my hotel
room has been the same. On the last
voyage there were POS passengers. and
the captain had made 2OS voyages on the
Mediterranean"
Quite a coincidence"
"Ah, If roulette could be played It'll
such a certainty"
Mr.. Ryanne sighed, hitched up his bun
die, which, being heavy, was beginning
to wear upon his arm, and signf1ed to the
manager to lead the way.
AS they vanished round the corner to
the lift the head porter studied the guest
list. He had looked over 1t a dozen times
that day, but this was the first instance
Of his being really interested in it. AS
his chin was freshly shaven he had no
stubble to stroke to excite his mental pro-
cesses; so he fell back. as we say. upon
the consoling ends Of his abundant mus
tache. Curious; but all these persons
were occupying or about to occupy ad-
jacent rooms There was truly nothing
mysterious about it. save that the stranger
had picked out these very names as a
target for his banter. Fortune Chedsoye;
it was rather an unusual name; but as
she had arrived only an hour or so be-
fore, he could not distinctly recall her
features. And then, there was that word
bucolic. He mentally turned 1t over and
over as physically he was wont to do
with postcards left in his care to mail
He could make nothing Of the word. ex-
cept that it smacked of the East Indian
plague.
Here he was saved from further cere-
bral agony by timely interruption. A
man, who was not Of bucolfc persuasion
either in dress or speech, urban from the
tips of his bleached fingers to the bulb OF
his bibulous nose. leaned across the
had yet arrived. Yes, he had just ar
rived; he was even now on his way to his
room. The urban gentleman nodded
Then, with a finger slim and we'll trim
med. he trailed up and down the guest
list.
''Ha! 1 see that you have the Duke of
What-d'-ye-call from Germany here. III
give you my card. Send 1t up to Mr.
Ryanne. No hurry. shall be In again
after dinner"
He hustled off toward the door. He
was pursy well fed and decently dressed.
the sort of a man who when he moved
in any direction, created the impression
that he had an important engagement
somewhere else or was pairing minutes
from time tables. For man in his bust
ness it was a clever exp&dient, decelv1ng
all but those who knew him. He hest
tated at the door. however. as II ne had
it took to reach it. He stared for long
period at the elderly gentleman who was
watching the feluccas on the river
through the window. The white mus
tache and imperial stood out in crisp re-
lief against the rudy sunburn on his
face II he was aware Of this scrutiny
on the part Of the pursy gentleman. he
gave not the least sign. The revolving
door spun round, sending a puff OF out
door. air into the lounging room. The
elderly gentleman then smiled. and ap-
piled his thumb and forefinger to the
waxen point of his imperial.
In the intervening time Mr. Ryanne en-
tered his room, threw the bundle on the
bed, sat down beside 1t and read his let
ter Shadows and lights moved across
his face: frowns that hardened It, smiles
that mellowed it. Women hold the trick
of writing letters. Do they hate. their
thoughts fash and burn from line to line.
Do they love, tits lettered Nlusic. Do they
conspire, the breadth of their Imagination