Chapter XX
Dirk Stroeve agreed to fetch me on the following evening and take me to the café at which Strickland was most likely to be found. I was interested to learn that it was the same as that at which Strickland and I had drunk absinthe when I had gone over to Paris to see him. The fact that he had never changed suggested a sluggishness of habit which seemed to me characteristic.
“There he is,” said Stroeve, as we reached the café.
Though it was October, the evening was warm, and the tables on the pavement were crowded. I ran my eyes over them, but did not see Strickland.
“Look. Over there, in the corner. He’s playing chess.”
I noticed a man bending over a chess-board, but could see only a large felt hat and a red beard. We threaded our way among the tables till we came to him.
“Strickland.”
He looked up.
“Hulloa, fatty. What do you want?”
“I’ve brought an old friend to see you.”