There were half a dozen palanquins waiting about the front of the Club as usual, and Sevier gave the coolies an address which Elliott did not catch. The bearers left Queen’s Road and turned up a street leading to the mountain, which they ascended for several minutes, and finally they stopped in the rain, which was now falling heavily. It was one of the beautiful and shaded streets half-way up the slope, and they were opposite a small bungalow that showed a glimmer of light through drawn rattan shutters.
“This is where Carlton and I have lived for the last fortnight,” said Sevier, getting out. “We can’t afford residences on the Peak, like you—and, Lord! how we have sizzled here!”
He led the way to the door, which he opened with a latch-key, and turned into a large sitting-room, lighted with an oil-lamp. The floor was bare; the room was almost devoid of furniture, containing only a couple of long chairs, a camp-chair, and a plain wooden table. On the table was the remnants of a meal, with a couple of empty ale-bottles. The windows were shut and closely covered with the blinds, and the air of the room was intolerably hot and close.
“Carlton’s been dining by himself to-night,” said Sevier, without appearing to observe the heat. “He’ll be back in a few minutes, and meanwhile we’ll have our drink.”
He produced a bottle from an ice-box, and was crushing some ice, when the door clicked open and shut again. A heavily built man appeared, his white duck clothing hanging limply upon him.
“How are you, old man!” said Sevier, glancing up. “Elliott, this is my friend, Mr. Carlton. He knows all about you.”
Carlton acknowledged the introduction by a nod and a searching glance. He was a dark and heavy-faced man of perhaps forty, with a thick brown moustache over lips that were small and close, and a small cold gray eye.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Elliott. Yes, I’ve heard of you,” he remarked, briefly. He sat down in the vacant cane chair and began to fill a curved briar pipe, which he smoked with much apparent satisfaction.
Sevier presently handed around three glasses crowned with the Chinese herb that tasted like mint. The whole concoction did not taste much like a Southern julep, but it was cooling. “Here’s luck for all of us!” said Sevier, and they drank.
There was a silence for a time, while the heat grew more and more unbearable.