The luggage was literally covered with mutilated square and
oblong slips of paper of many colors, on which were printed the
advertisements of far-sighted hotel keepers all the way from
Bombay to London and half-way back across the continent.
There was nothing to be seen, however, indicative of the
traveler's name. He surveyed his surroundings with lively
interest shining in his gray eyes, one of which peered through a
monocle encircled by a thin rim of tortoise shell. He watched
the fussy customs officials, who, by some strange mischance,
overlooked his belongings. Finally he made an impatient gesture.
"Find me a cab," he said to the attentive guard, who, with an
eye to the main chance, had waved off the approach of a station
porter. "If the inspectors are in no hurry, I am."
"At once, my lord;" and the guard, as he stooped and lifted the
luggage, did not see the start which this appellation caused the
stranger to make, but who, after a moment, was convinced that
the guard had given him the title merely out of politeness. The
guard placed the traps inside of one of the many vehicles
stationed at the street exit of the terminus.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55