"
"Very good, sir." Oh! Perfection of tone and of mien!
Three minutes later the plain note-paper and envelopes were being
presented to Edward Henry on a salver. As he took them he looked
inquiringly at the gentleman-in-waiting, who supported his gaze with
an impenetrable, invulnerable servility. Edward Henry, beaten off with
great loss, thought: "There's nothing doing here just now in the human
companionship line," and assumed the mask of a hereditary prince.
The black calves carried away their immaculate living burden, set
above all earthly ties.
He wrote nicely to Nellie about the weather and the journey and
informed her also that London seemed as full as ever, and that he
might go to the theatre but he wasn't sure. He dated the letter from
the Majestic.
As he was finishing it he heard mysterious, disturbing footfalls in
his private corridor, and after trying for some time to ignore them,
he was forced by a vague alarm to investigate their origin. A short,
middle-aged, pallid man, with a long nose and long moustaches, wearing
a red-and-black-striped sleeved waistcoat and a white apron, was in
the corridor. At the Turk's Head such a person would have been the
boots. But Edward Henry remembered a notice under the bell, advising
visitors to ring once for the waiter, twice for the chambermaid,
and three times for the valet.
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