“He always is. What would you think of an appointment, sir, three days overdue?”
“I should think of it with philosophy, having the Ritz cuisine and cellar to fall back upon.”
I turned to him interestedly, my hands behind my head.
“You have?”
“No, but you,” said he.
I was a bit puzzled and amused; but curious, too.
“You are not staying at the Ritz?” I asked. He shook his head good-humouredly. “Then how do you know I am?”
“There is not much mystery in that,” said he. “You happened to be standing on the steps when I happened to be passing. The rest you have admitted.”
“And among all these”—I waved my hand comprehensively—“you could remember me from that one glimpse?”
He laughed, but again ignored my question.