“Came to Chicago?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Just our luck. After you had been well buncoed you came to Chicago. I swear I’m tempted to settle in New York when I get back.”
“By the West I do not mean Chicago, Mr. Hemster. I went right through to San Francisco and took a steamer for Japan. I thought my knowledge of the East and of the languages might be of advantage. I was ashamed to return to England when I found I could make no headway here. I tried to bring influence to bear to get reinstated in the diplomatic service, but my brand of statesman was out of office and nothing could be done. I lived too expensively here at first, hoping to make an impression and gain a foothold that was worth having, and when I began to economize it was too late. I took to living in the native quarter, and descended from trying to get a clerkship into the position of a man who is willing to take anything. From my veranda on the hill up yonder I saw this boat come in, like a white-winged sea-gull, and so I came down, got into a sampan, and here I am, enjoying the best meal I’ve had for a long time. ‘Here endeth the first lesson,’” I concluded irreverently, pouring out another glass of champagne.
Mr. Hemster did not reply for some moments. He was evidently ruminating, and the end of his cigar went round and round quicker and quicker.
“What might your name be?” he said at last.
“Rupert Tremorne.”
“Got a handle to it?”
“A title? Oh, no! Plain Mr. Tremorne.”
“I should say, off-hand, that a title runs in your family somewhere.”