Without further words the three recrossed the street to the hotel.
“I don’t suppose the most rigid doctor would object to my having something to drink after that tumble,” observed Ralston, as they passed through the crowded hall.
“Every man is the best judge of what he wants,” answered Bright.
Few people noticed, or appeared to notice, Ralston’s dilapidated condition, his smashed hat, his dusty clothes and his heelless shoe. He found a hall-boy who brushed him, and little Frank Miner did his best to restore the hat to an appearance of respectability.
“All right, Frank,” said Ralston. “Don’t bother—I’m going home in a cab, you know.”
He led the way to the bar, swallowed half a tumbler of whiskey neat, and then got into a carriage.
“See you this evening,” he said briefly, as he nodded to Bright and Miner, and shut the cab door after him.
The other two watched the carriage a moment, as it drove away, and then looked at one another. Miner had a trick of moving his right ear when he was puzzled. It is rather an unusual peculiarity, and his friends knew what it meant. As Bright looked at him the ear began to move slowly, backwards and forwards, with a slight upward motion. Bright smiled.
“You needn’t wag it so far, Frank,” he said. “He’s going home. It will be all right now.”
“I suppose so—or I hope so, at least. I wonder if Mrs. Ralston is in.”