'It seems all right,' said Henry lamely.
Mr. Snyder laughed heartily. 'I'm going to America to-morrow. I told you, didn't I? Never been there before. So I thought I'd get a revolver. Never know, you know. Eh?' He laughed again.
Then he suddenly ceased laughing, and sniffed the air.
'Is this a business office?' Henry asked himself. 'Or is it a club?'
His feet were on a Turkey carpet. He was seated in a Chippendale chair. A glorious fire blazed behind a brass fender, and the receptacle for coal was of burnished copper. Photogravures in rich oaken frames adorned the roseate walls. The ceiling was an expanse of ornament, with an electric chandelier for centre.
'Have a cigarette?' said Mr. Snyder, pushing across towards Henry a tin of Egyptians.
'Thanks,' said Henry, who did not usually smoke, and he put Love in Babylon on the table.
Mr. Snyder sniffed the air again.
'Now, what can I do for you?' said he abruptly.