“Monsieur Wluiki?” asked Julius.
The young man bowed again without answering.
“Please excuse my sitting down in your room while I was waiting for you. I really shouldn’t have ventured to do so if I hadn’t been shown in.”
Julius spoke faster and louder than usual to convince himself that he was at ease. Lafcadio frowned imperceptibly; he went towards Julius’s umbrella and without a word put it outside to stream in the passage; then coming back into the room again, he motioned Julius to sit down.
“You are no doubt surprised to see me?”
Lafcadio quietly took a cigarette out of a silver cigarette case and lit it.
“I will explain my reason for calling in a few words. Of course you will understand....”
The more he spoke, the more he felt his assurance oozing away.
“Well, then!—But first allow me to introduce myself....” and as though he felt embarrassed at having to pronounce his own name, he drew a visiting-card out of his waistcoat pocket and held it out to Lafcadio, who put it down on the table without looking at it.
“I am ... I have just finished a rather important piece of work; it’s a small piece of work which I have no time to copy out myself. Someone mentioned you to me as having an excellent handwriting and I thought that, perhaps ...” here Julius’s glance travelled eloquently over the bareness of the room—“I thought that perhaps you would have no objection....”