"Indeed! I feel honored."
Coleman produced the letter and tendered it: but not without a vague feeling of insecurity of some sort. He had not expected this peculiar reserve and caution on the part of the Judge. Could it be that he was to be treated as an infliction to be borne for mere policy's sake. His distrust and doubt, however, were of short duration, for the Judge had no sooner read the epistle, which was much longer than any mere letter of introduction, than his whole manner changed. He held out his hand.
"I am charmed, delighted, sir," he said, with a slight creole accent that made his voice very pleasing. "I am proud to see you. I hope you find your rooms agreeable."
Coleman clasped his hand and felt that measure of relief which comes when one is suddenly lifted out of a very awkward situation.
The Judge read the banker's letter over again with great deliberation and apparently with much concentration of mind, while Coleman, who could not remove his eyes from his fascinating dark face, stood waiting for an opportunity to say:
"You do me infinite honor, Judge, in quartering me in your own house. I had not expected and could not expect such hospitality."
The Judge hesitated, then with a calm smile remarked that whatever he could do for so distinguished a visitor would be but a small expression of the greater hospitality that he would like to bestow were he able.
"And now," he presently continued, "come with me to my own private apartments, where we can have some quiet conversation and a smoke."
Coleman could not fail to see that the Judge was still somewhat touched with wine, though the mood of wild hilarity had passed off.
They passed along the street until they reached a narrow blind alley into which the moonlight fell but dimly between dusky walls.