‘You flatter me,’ said the little Anglicized Swiss.
‘No, I don’t,’ answered Racksole; ‘it isn’t my custom, any more than it’s yours. I wanted to have a real good long yarn with you, and lo! here you are! Where have you sprung from?’
‘From Lausanne,’ said Felix Babylon. ‘I had finished my duties there, I had nothing else to do, and I felt homesick. I felt the nostalgia of London, and so I came over, just as you see,’ and he raised the handbag for Racksole’s notice. ‘One toothbrush, one razor, two slippers, eh?’ He laughed. ‘I was wondering as I walked along where I should stay—me, Felix Babylon, homeless in London.’
‘I should advise you to stay at the Grand Babylon,’ Racksole laughed back.
‘It is a good hotel, and I know the proprietor personally.’
‘Rather expensive, is it not?’ said Babylon.
‘To you, sir,’ answered Racksole, ‘the inclusive terms will be exactly half a crown a week. Do you accept?’
‘I accept,’ said Babylon, and added, ‘You are very good, Mr Racksole.’
They strolled together back to the hotel, saying nothing in particular, but feeling very content with each other’s company.
‘Many customers?’ asked Felix Babylon.