He was there one evening after an excellent dinner taken with humorous
resignation, smoking the largest cigar the waiter could supply, when
Claude de Chauxville happened to have nothing better or nothing worse to
do.
De Chauxville looked through the glass door for some seconds. Then he
twisted his waxed mustache and lounged in. Steinmetz was alone in the
room, and De Chauxville was evidently--almost obviously--unaware of his
presence. He went to the table and proceeded to search in vain for a
newspaper that interested him. He raised his eyes casually and met the
quiet gaze of Karl Steinmetz.
"Ah!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," said Steinmetz.
"You--in London?"
Steinmetz nodded gravely.
"Yes," he repeated.
"One never knows where one has you," Claude de Chauxville went on,
seating himself in a deep arm-chair, newspaper in hand. "You are a bird
of passage."
"A little heavy on the wing--now," said Steinmetz.
He laid his newspaper down on his stout knees and looked at De
Chauxville over his gold eye-glasses. He did not attempt to conceal the
fact that he was wondering what this man wanted with him. The baron
seemed to be wondering what object Steinmetz had in view in getting
stout. He suspected some motive in the obesity.
"Ah!" he said deprecatingly. "That is nothing. Time leaves its mark upon
all of us.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69