Dick smiled as they entered the hotel lobby and walked toward the cloakroom.
“What makes you so sure my ear will be sympathetic?” he asked. “You may get a terrible disappointment.”
“I guess not,” Demarest returned quickly. “We look so much alike that the resemblance can’t possibly stop at that. And I’m so blamed sorry for myself that sometimes I could fairly weep at my own misfortunes. Haven’t you felt sad sometimes without knowing the reason why?”
Merriwell nodded.
“Once in a while, yes.”
“I knew it!” Demarest exclaimed. “Those were the times when I was being more severely mauled by the Goddess of Misfortune than usual. Sort of mental telepathy, you know. But come, let’s not waste any more precious minutes. I fairly pine to let loose the floodgates of self-confession, and over there in the corner I see an empty table which had been saved for us by a special dispensation of providence.”
CHAPTER XVI
AUSTIN DEMAREST, ACTOR.
As Dick settled down on one side of the cozy little table near one of the windows and unfolded his napkin he felt a pleasant glow of satisfaction stealing over him. Short as was their acquaintance, he already felt a distinct liking for the man opposite him, whose handsome face still impressed him with the odd sensation of looking into a mirror and seeing his own countenance reflected there.
The fellow was very evidently a gentleman by birth and breeding. That had been plain from the first moment of their unconventional meeting. His manners were unexceptionable, and he had a certain air of polished refinement which was manifest to Merriwell’s keen perception in a dozen unobtrusive ways.