‘Stopping at the Hotel de la Ville,’ said the awakener, ‘and adoing of the Grand Tower, my pippin. I’m playing cicerone. Come up and have a smoke and a jaw.’
‘All right,’ said Mr. Barndale languidly. Nobody, to look at him now, would have guessed how fast his heart beat, and how every nerve in his body fluttered. ‘I’m at the same place. When did you come?’
‘Three hours ago. We’re going on to Constantinople. Boat starts at six.’
‘Ah!’ said Barndale placidly. ‘I’m going on to Constantinople too.’
‘Now that’s what I call jolly,’ said the other. ‘You’re going to-night of course?’
‘Of course. Nothing to stay here for.’
At the door of the hotel stood Barndale’s servant, a sober-looking Scotchman dressed in dark tweed.
‘Come with me, Bob,’ said Barndale as he passed him. ‘See you in the coffee-room in five minutes, Jimmy.’
In his own room Barndale sat down upon the bedside and addressed his servant.
‘I have changed my mind about going home. Go to Lloyd’s office and take places for this evening’s boat to Constantinople. Wait a bit. Let me see what the fare is. There you are. Pack up and get everything down to the boat and wait there until I come.’