"I could have him round here in less than an hour, sir," said
the hotel-valet, comprehending the gesture. "He's at Norwich
Mews--Berkeley Square way, sir."
Edward Henry hesitated.
"Very well, then!" he said commandingly. "Send for him. Let me see
him."
He thought:
"Dash it! I'm at Wilkins's--I'll be _at_ Wilkins's!"
"Certainly, sir! Thank you very much, sir."
The hotel-valet was retiring when Edward Henry called him back.
"Stop a moment. I'm just going out. Help me on with my overcoat, will
you?"
The man jumped.
"And you might get me a tooth-brush," Edward Henry airily suggested.
"And I've a letter for the post."
As he walked down Devonshire Square in the dark he hummed a tune;
certain sign that he was self-conscious, uneasy, and yet not unhappy.
At a small but expensive hosier's in a side street he bought a shirt
and a suit of pyjamas, and also permitted himself to be tempted by
a special job line of hair-brushes that the hosier had in his fancy
department. On hearing the powerful word "Wilkins's," the hosier
promised with passionate obsequiousness that the goods should be
delivered instantly.
Edward Henry cooled his excitement by an extended stroll, and finally
re-entered the outer hall of the hotel at half-past seven, and sat
down therein to see the world. He knew by instinct that the boldest
lounge-suit must not at that hour penetrate further into the public
rooms of Wilkins's.
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