Sargon put down his map and the planisphere upon the table. He felt that he must secure this room or be for ever defeated.
“I am willing,” he said, “to take the room. I would pay for it in advance. And take up my quarters at once. But, I must warn you, my position in the world is peculiar. I give no reference, I bring no luggage.”
“Except of course these charts,” said the young man. “Haven’t you—for instance—a toothbrush?”
Sargon thought. “No. I must get myself a toothbrush.”
“I think it would look better,” said the young man.
“If necessary,” said Sargon, “I will pay for two weeks in advance. And I will get myself all necessary things.”
The young man regarded him with an affectionate expression. “If it was my room I should let you have it like a shot,” he said. “But Mrs. Richman is the landlady and in many respects she’s different from me. Have you—travelled far, sir?”
“In space,” said Sargon, “No.”
“But in time, perhaps?”
“In time, yes. But I would rather not enter into explanations at present.”