"'In a private room?' I said this to see how he would take it. He still stood in the full glare of the lantern.
"'No, unless you prefer. I would rather dine downstairs—more people there.'
"'All right—lead the way, I'll follow.'
"It was the worst night that you ever saw. Hardly a soul in the streets. It had set in for a three days' storm, I knew; we always had them in Venice during December. My friend kept right on without looking behind him or speaking to me; over the bridge, through the Campo San Moisè and so on to the Piazza and the caffè. There were only half a dozen fellows inside when we entered. These greeted me with the yell of welcome we always gave each other on entering, and which this time I didn't return, I knew they would open their eyes when they saw us sit down together, and I didn't want any complications by which I would be obliged to introduce him to anybody. I hated not to be decent, but you see I didn't know but I'd have to hand him over to the police before I was through with him, and I wanted the responsibility of his acquaintance to devolve on me alone. Roscoff either wouldn't or didn't take in the situation, for he came up when we were seated, leaned over my chair, and put his arm around my neck. I saw a shade of disappointment cross my companion's face when I didn't present Roscoff to him, but he said nothing. But I couldn't help it—I didn't see anything else to do. Then again, Roscoff was one of those fellows who would never let you hear the end of it if anything went wrong.
"The man looked at the bill of fare steadily for some minutes, pushed it over to me, and said: 'You order.'
"There was nothing gracious in the way he said it—more like a command than anything else. It nettled me for a moment. I don't like your buttoned-up kind of a man that gives you a word now and then as grudgingly as if he were doling out pennies from a pocket-hook. But I kept still. Then I was on a voyage of discovery. The tones of his voice jarred on me, I must admit, and I answered him in the same peremptory way. Not that I had any animosity toward him, but so as to meet him on his own ground.
"'Then it will be the regular table d'hôte dinner with a pint of Chianti for each,' I snapped out. 'Will that suit you?'
"'Yes, if you like Chianti.'
"'I do when it's good.'
"'Do you like anything better?' he asked, as if he were cross questioning me on the stand.