"Oh, yes!" he cried. "I remember the name now! It's the Louisiane! Come on! Let's get our coats an' go there!"
"But," I said, "this is the Louisiane right here."
The thought seemed to stagger him, for he swayed ever so slightly.
"All right," he said, regarding me with great solemnity. "Let's go there!"
I have wondered since if this same young man may not have been the one who, returning to the St. Charles Hotel in the early hours of that sad Ash Wednesday morning, was asked by the clerk, who gave him his key, whether he wished to leave a call.
"What day's this?" he inquired.
"Wednesday," said the clerk.
"All ri'," replied the other, moving toward the elevator. "Call me Saturday."