Nothing!
“Hum!” said he, at length—and returned to the red-room, and to his chair. It was quite possible that Mrs. Clephane would be back in a moment—yet somehow he doubted.
He waited for a quarter of an hour, and she did not come. He made another tour of Peacock Alley, the lobby, the dining-rooms, and back to the red-room.
Nothing!
He looked at his watch—it was half-after-seven o’clock. He would wait fifteen minutes longer. Then, if she had not come, he would go about his business—which, at present, was to dine.
He sat with his watch in his hand, looking down the room and at those who entered.
The fifteen minutes passed. He put up his watch and arose; the wait was ended.
He crossed the corridor to the dining-room.
“The table in yonder corner, Philippe,” he said, to the bowing head-waiter.
“One, Monsieur Harleston?” the man replied; and himself escorted him over and placed him, and took his order for dinner. From which facts it can be inferred that Harleston was something of a personage at the big caravansary.