"Dunder and blixen! I shouldn't dink as you wus want much more fire as dere is in your eyes, young fellow. But I send for your prandy."
The young man threw one glance around the room to see if he were the only occupant.
There was another person there, one who had evidently just come in, a traveler, judging by a good-sized valise that was on the floor beside his chair. This person looked young, for the face, or as much of it as was not hidden by a very full black beard, was fair and smooth as that of a woman; while the hair which shaded his white brow was dark as night, soft and glossy as silk, hanging on short, curling masses about his face and neck.
He was dressed rather better than the usual run of travelers; in a good black broad-cloth suit–wore a heavy gold watch-chain, had on a fine linen shirt, with a diamond pin in the bosom, and appeared to feel quite satisfied with himself, from the cool and easy manner in which he gave his orders for a good, substantial meal, in a voice rather low and musical for one of his apparent age.
The last comer eyed this person very closely, and a smile almost, like contempt rose on his face, when the dark-eyed stranger called for claret wine, or if they had not that, for a cup of tea.
But his own strong drink was now brought in, and pouring out a glassful of undiluted brandy he drank it down and muttered:
"That's the stuff! It will keep up the fire. My veins would stiffen without it. It has carried me so far, and it must to the end. Then–no matter!"
The stranger or traveler looked as if wondering that the young man could take such a fearful dose of fiery liquor, and the wonder must have increased when a second glassful was drained before the food was on the table.
But the latter came in now, and the traveler and the young man with auburn hair, at separate tables, were apparently too busy in disposing of the eatables to take any further notice of each other.
When the first had finished, he took a roll of cigarettes from one of his pockets, selected one, took a match from a silver box, drawn from the same pocket, and lighting his cigarette, threw a cloud of smoke above his head.