"Certainly, sir, certainly," replied the other. "Will you come this way, sir."
He guided us down a long, brilliantly lit corridor, stopping at the end door on the left, which he opened.
We found ourselves in a small but luxuriously furnished room, with a table already laid for supper, and delightfully decorated with flowers.
"This room was engaged to-night by one of the Russian nobility," explained our conductor suavely. "The order has just been cancelled by telephone, so, if it will suit you, sir—"
"It will do excellently," broke in Northcote.
Another waiter who had followed us into the apartment came forward, prepared to take our coats and hats. Northcote stopped him with a gesture.
"You can leave them here," he said. Then, turning to the head waiter, he added curtly, "I shall be obliged if you will attend to us yourself."
The man bowed, and, signalling to his assistant to withdraw, presented the menu which the latter had brought in.
Northcote glanced at it, and then handed it across to me. "Is there anything particular that you would like?" he asked carelessly. "I fancy the resources of the Milan are fairly comprehensive."
I shrugged my shoulders. "I shall be more or less of a spectator in any case," I said. "You had better settle the question."