“What about your family?”
“Take family to Japan first—all family Nagasaki—family take good care wife an’ babies—gran’fadder, gran’mudder, all Nagasaki.”
“Well, I hope this war cloud blows over and you don’t have to fight,” said Gilbert; and then the two parted.
Gilbert had expected to consult with Mr. Chase, but on the following morning he learned that the merchant had departed for Mukden, to be gone a week or longer. The city was now agitated more than ever, and nothing but war was talked about on every hand.
Rather tired out, the young American returned to his hotel at six in the evening for dinner. He was about to pass up to the room he had been occupying when a porter stopped him.
“You are requested to report at the office,” said the man respectfully.
Wondering what was coming next, Gilbert walked into the office where the proprietor sat, smoking a cigar. He was a fat and rather a jolly-looking Russian.
“You wish to see me?” inquired Gilbert.
“I do, Mr. Pennington,” was the stiff answer. The hotel proprietor cleared his throat. “It is exceedingly unpleasant for me to do so, but I have to inform you that your room has been taken by somebody else.”
“My room? Why, I expected to keep it for some time yet.”