Stemp asked the question with such perfect gravity that, being an Englishman, he might very well have been thought to mean the words literally. But he did not. [{108}] He merely adopted Mr. Van Torp's usual way of expressing that the master was not at home.
'I'll look at the card, anyway.'
He stretched out one hand without turning his eyes towards it; the careful Stemp promptly brought the little salver into contact with the large fingers, which picked up the card and raised it deliberately to the line of vision. By this means Mr. Van Torp saved himself the trouble of turning his head.
It was a rather large card, bearing in the middle two or three odd-looking signs which meant nothing to him, but underneath them he read in plain characters the single work 'Barak.'
'Barrack!' grumbled the American. 'Rubbish! Why not "teapot," or "rocking-horse," or anything else that's appropriate?'
As he paused for an answer, Stemp ventured to speak.
'Can't say, sir. P'rhaps it's the only word he knows, sir, so he's had it printed.'
Van Torp turned his head at last, and his eyes glared unpleasantly as he examined his valet's face. But the Englishman's features were utterly impassive; if they expressed anything it was contempt for the heathen person outside, who only knew one word of English.
Mr. Van Torp seemed satisfied and glanced at the card again.
'I guess you didn't mean to be funny,' he said, as if acknowledging that he had made a mistake.