Quorrall,
casually, to a ticket-collector who entered.
And the resplendent official obeyed. The long cushion, rapt from
another compartment, was placed on the knees of the quartette, and the
game began. The ticket-collector examined the tickets of Brindley and
Edward Henry, and somehow failed to notice that they were of the wrong
colour. And at this proof of their influential greatness Messieurs
Garvin & Quorrall were both secretly proud.
The last rubber finished in the neighbourhood of Willesden, and Edward
Henry, having won eighteenpence halfpenny, was exuberantly
content, for Messrs Garvin, Quorrall and Brindley were all renowned
card-players. The cushion was thrown away and a fitful conversation
occupied the few remaining minutes of the journey.
"Where do you put up?" Brindley asked Edward Henry.
"Majestic," said Edward Henry. "Where do you?"
"Oh! Kingsway, I suppose."
The Majestic and the Kingsway were two of the half-dozen very large
and very mediocre hotels in London which, from causes which nobody,
and especially no American, has ever been able to discover, are
particularly affected by Midland provincials "on the jaunt!" Both had
an immense reputation in the Five Towns.
There was nothing new to say about the Majestic and the Kingsway, and
the talk flagged until Mr. Quorrall mentioned Seven Sachs.
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