Thus speaking, he hooked his arm in Thornton’s and, preceded by the waiter, they passed out again into the entry and walked up a couple of flights of richly-carpeted stairs, down to the end of a corridor, where a window opened on a gloomy prospect of dark roofs and irregular black voids.
The waiter rapped on one of the doors that lined this corridor, and a voice shouted, “Come in.”
The attendant stepped aside and permitted Dudley to usher Vance into a well-lighted room and the presence of a dark-complexioned gentleman in full evening dress and a young lady of unquestioned beauty, that was heightened by her chic air.
They had just been served with supper, the chief dish being grilled bones.
There were bottles of wine and ale on the table, and the couple seemed to be enjoying themselves hugely.
“Hello, Dudley! You’re just in time. You’ll have supper with us, of course—you and your friend. Waiter, take the order.”
“Sure,” responded the dapper young man; then, turning to the lady, whom he evidently knew, he said, “Miss Miller, this is Vance Thornton.”
The young lady bowed with a sweet smile and a fascinating glance.
“Carrington,” continued Dudley, turning to the gentleman, “let me make you acquainted with my friend Thornton. Vance, this is Sid Carrington.”
“Glad to know you, Thornton,” said Carrington, rising and extending his hand.