Whereupon Jack related to de Garros, as well as he could recall the details, the dream that had seemed so real.
De Garros was thrilled. Every now and then he broke into the recital with exclamations most expressive of the impressions they made upon him.
“And now,” Jack said in conclusion, “I think it is best for us to dress. I have never dreamed before, and I never want to dream again, if all dreams are so terribly real.”
De Garros laughingly agreed with him.
When Jack had dressed, he began to explore the corridors of the hotel. He felt that Bill, Tom Jukes and Pottle were guests of it. Of course, the easiest way about it would have been to inquire at the office.
As the hour was rather early he did not care to do this at once. A little later Jack was joined by de Garros, and together they walked into the dining room. Even at this hour several tables were occupied.
Almost at once the two were espied by their friends. A more amazed and glad set of chaps would have been indeed difficult to find anywhere.
“Honest, Jack,” cried Bill, tears of real joy in his eyes, “we had given up all hope of ever seeing you again.”
“Man alive!” declared Tom Jukes, “you can’t imagine how we felt, for we knew that there was no chance of getting through to save you.”
“Blues—here—everybody!” exploded Pottle. “Funeral cheerful in comparison—no eat—no food—just blues!”