[THE OPEN WINDOW]
By CHARLES CALDWELL DOBIE
From Harper’s Magazine
Copyright, 1918, by Harper and Brothers.
Copyright, 1919, by Charles Caldwell Dobie.
“It happened just as I have said,” Fernet reiterated, tossing the wine-dregs from his glass.
The company at the table looked instinctively toward the kitchen. Berthe was bringing a fresh pot of coffee. They all followed Fernet’s example, lifting their empty glasses for her to serve them in their turn.
The regular boarders of the Hôtel de France, after the fashion of folks who find their meal a duty to be promptly despatched, had departed, but the transients still lingered over their café noir and cognac in the hope that something exciting might materialize.
As the sound of Fernet’s voice died away, a man who had been sitting in an extreme corner of the room scraped back his chair and rose. Fernet looked up. The man was a hunchback, and, instead of paying for his meal and leaving, he crossed over and said to Fernet, in the most perfect French imaginable:
“I see, my young fellow, that you are discussing something of interest with your friends here. Would it be impertinent for me to inquire into the subject?”