"I want a private room," he informed the proprietor, who came to meet him with a bow.
"I'm ver' sorry, Mr. Smith, but I have not——"
"But you have three," said T. B. indignantly.
"I offer a thousand regrets," said the distressed restaurateur; "they are engaged. If you had only——"
"But, name of dog! name of a sacred pipe!" expostulated T. B. unscrupulously. Was it not possible to pretend that there had been a mistake; that one room had already been engaged?
"Impossible, m'sieur! In No. 1 we have no less a person than the Premier of Southwest Australia, who is being dined by his fellow-colonists; in No. 2 a family party of Lord Redlands; in No. 3—ah! in No. 3——"
"Ah, in No. 3!" repeated T. B. cunningly, and the proprietor dropped his voice to a whisper.
"'La Belle Espagnole'!" he murmured. He named the great Spanish dancer with relish. "She, and her fiancé's friend, eh?"
"Her fiancé? I didn't know——"
"It is a secret——" He looked round as if he were fearful of eavesdroppers. "But it is said that 'La Belle Espagnole' is to be married to a rich admirer."