He was not a profane man. Once Diana had wrung from him such an expression, but Diana and her startling point of view was the mildest of provocation compared with the horror that lay unfolded on the bed.
As a length of cloth it had called for attention. It was humanly impossible to pass it by without some such comment as “That is rather unusual.” But in the piece it had dignity; there was a suggestion of weavers’ genius and ingenuity.
As a suit, embellished with a saucy waist, and with buttons that were in themselves a quiet smile.... Gordon felt a trickle of something at his temples and requisitioned his handkerchief. He could not possibly wear this. The alternative, for a short sea voyage, was a black morning coat and top hat—equally impossible.
Time was flying. He put on the trousers. They did not look so bad ... he dressed.
Standing before the long glass in the wardrobe, he looked and wondered. One thing was certain: not his dearest friend would recognise him—and his overcoat would hide much. The reflection of this new Gordon Selsbury fascinated him.
“How do you do?” he asked politely.
The figure in the mirror bowed gravely. He was a perfect stranger to Gordon, a young bookmaker, Gordon thought, and was growing interested when he realised with a shock that it was himself. Packing hastily, he rang the bell three times for the valet. If you rang twice the porter came, once, the chambermaid. So he rang three times. The chambermaid appeared. Happily the hotel is a house of call. Guests come overnight and leave in the morning. Nobody recognises anybody except under the urgent promptings of lawyers’ clerks, supported by the visitors’ book. Ten per cent of the staff was permanently giving evidence at the law courts.
“The valet,” said Gordon and, when that individual appeared, gave instructions regarding the grip containing his discarded suit and hat-box. It occurred to him at that moment that one does not journey to Scotland in a top hat, and he was rather glad that Diana had been out when he left.
“I want these things to be kept in the hotel cloak-room,” said Gordon. “I will be back next Friday night and collect them.”
Now the valet knew him; had seen him, not at the hotel, but at a very select club in Pall Mall where the man had been a waiter before the craze for improvement had driven him to the brushing of odd people’s odder clothing.