"I didn't expect to be here," said Franklin.
"No, I s'pose not. Well, is this hot enough for you, sir?"
"I don't mind it. Do you know if Mr. Fraser is in?"
"Mr. Fraser? Yes, sir. I took him up awhile ago. He went out early."
Franklin nodded, got out and rang the bell. He had forgotten his latch-key as usual. The elevator man stood hesitating for a moment. His smile was so beaming that instinctively Franklin knew that if his door wasn't opened quickly he would be obliged to reply to very much undesired congratulations. The thing was all over the earth by that time, of course. The door opened at the psychological moment, however, and Franklin was spared. All the same, he turned before he went in, gave the man a nod, said, "Thanks, all the same," and exchanged a very human smile. Good fellows, both.
The man who opened the door was unable to refrain from raising his well-trained eyebrows, and his lips, too, shaped themselves for felicitations. But Franklin gave him his hat and said: "Tell Mrs. Romanes that I shall want lunch." And then let out a loud and ringing shout of "Who's aboard?"
Malcolm Fraser, who was sitting under an electric fan in a suit of white duck, sprang to his feet. "Good Lord!" he said to himself, "what the——"
Franklin turned at the door. "And, Johnson," he called out, "bring me a claret and seltzer! Sharp's the word." He glanced at the evening paper in Fraser's hand and gave a snort. There it was. Oh, Lord, yes! In huge letters half-way down the front page. Far bigger than would have been given to an ordinary war, or the discovery of a genuine cure for consumption. Photographs of bride and bridegroom, too, of course, twined together with flourishing lines and love-knots and orange blossoms.
Fraser shaped his lips.
"Now, look here, Malcolm," said Franklin, grimly, "if you say it,—one word of it,—I'll heave this chair at your head. All the same, I'm darned glad you're in, old man. I never needed your level head so much on earth."