The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1912-10-30
p II.
An Affable Rogue.

Inc carriage containing the Senlie
man with the reversible cuffs drew up
at the side entrance. Instantly the
Arab guides surged and eddied round
him; but their clamor broke against q
composure as effective as granite. The
roar was almost directly succeeded by
a low gurgle, as of little waves reced-
ing. The proposed victim had not
spoken a word; to the Arabs it was
not necessary; in some manner, subtle
and indescribable, they recognized a
brother. He carried a long, cylindri'
cal bundle wrapped in heavy paper
~variously secured by windings of thick
twine. His regard for this bundle was
one Of tender sollcitude, for he tucked
1t under his arm, cumbersome though
1t was, and waved aside the carriage
porter, who was, however, permitted
to carry in the kit-bag.
The manager appeared. When comes
he not upon the scene? His quick,
calculating eye was not wholly as
sured. The strangers homespun was
AofS oAo lilly "SALy oho VI q
cut popular to the season gone the
year before. No fat letter Of credit
here, was the not unreasonable conclu.
sion reached by the manager. Still,
with that caution acquired by years
Of experience, which had eliminated
in what is known as Swiss diplomacy,
he brought into being the accustomed
s%alutatory smile and inquired If the
gentleman had written ahead for res,
ervation. otherwise 1t would not be
possible to accommodate him.
Il telegraphed," crisply.
THE name, II you please?"
"Ryanne; spelled R-y-a double-n e.
Have you ever been in County Clare?'
mo, sir" The manager added a
question with the uplift Of his eye
brows. ....
WELL" was the enlightening an
swer, you pronounce it as they do
there"
~ The manager scanned the little slip
Of paper in his hand. "Ah, yes; we
have reserved a room for you, sir.
The French style rather confused me-"
This was not offered in irony, or sar-
casm, or satire; mining In a Swiss
brain for the saving grace Of humor
Is about as remunerative as the ex-
traction Of gold from sea-water. New
%ertheless, the Swiss has the talent Of
swiftly s%ubtracting from a confusion
Of ideas one point of Illumination:
there was a quality to the strangers
tone that decided him ~favorably. It
was the voice Of a man in the habit
Of being obeyed; and in these days it
was the power Of money alon@ that
obtained obedience to any man. Be-
yond this, the same nebulous cogita-
ton that had subdued the Arabs out
side acted likewise upon him. Here
was a brother.
"Mail?" ,
Il will see, sir" The manager sum-
moned a porter. Room 2OS."
The porter caught up the somewhat
collapsed kit-bag, which had in all evil
dence received some rough usage in
it's time, and reached toward the roll:
Mr.. Ryanne interposed.
Il will see to that. my man." terse-
y.
Eyes, sir"
Where is your guest-list?" de-
manded Mr.. Ryanne of the manager.
"The head-porter's bureau, sir. ]
will see If you have any mail" The
manager passed into his own bureau.
1t was rather difficult to tell whether
this man was an American or an Eng
lishman. His accent was western, but
his nj was decidedly British. AT
any rate, that tone and carriage must
be Fashioned by good English sover,
eigns, or for nee his Judgment was
at fault.
The porter dashed upstairs. Mr..
Ryanne, his bundle still snug under
his arm, sauntered over to the head
porter's bureau and ran his glance up
and down the columns of visiting
cards. Once he nodded with approval,
and again he smiled. having discoy-
cred that which SEN a ripple across
his sleeping n Of amusement. Ma
jor Callahan, room FOG; Fortune Ched.
soye, 205; George P. A. Jones, 21O.
Him! the Major smells Of County
Antrim and the finest whisky in all
the isle. Fortune Chedsoye; that is q
pleasing name; tinkling brooks, the
waving green grasses in the mead
ows, the kline in the water, the fleet.
ing shadows under the oaks; a pas.
torai, a bucolic name. To claim For.
tune for mine own; a happy thought
As he uttered these poesy express
sions aloud, in a voice low and not IN
pleasing, for all that it was banter,
ing, the head-porter stared at him with
mingling doubt and alarm; and as if
to pronounce these emotions mutely
for the benefit of the other, he per,
mitted his eyes to open their widest.
Tut, tut; that's all right, porter. /
am cursed with the habit Of speaking
my Utmost thoughts. Some persons
are afflicted with insomnia; some fall
asleep in church; | think orally. Beast
ly habit, eh?"
The porter then understood that he
was dealing not with a species of
mild lunacy. but with that kind of
li~ght-hearted cynicism upon which
the world las porters know it, had set
its approving seal. In brief, he smiled
family; and If be had any pleasantly
to pass in turn, the approach of the
manager, nov clothed metaphorically
in deferentialism, relegated it to
the limbo of things thought but left