.. That building might be the tomb of his
reputation. On the other hand, it might be the seed of a new renown
compared to which the first would be as naught! He turned his eyes
away, in fear--yes, in fear!
"I say," he said. "Will Sir John Pilgrim be out of bed yet, d'ye
think?" He glanced at his watch. The hour was about eleven.
"He'll be at breakfast."
"I'm going to see him, then. What's his address?"
"25 Queen Anne's Gate. But do you knaow him? I do. Shall I cam with
you?"
"No," said Edward Henry, shortly. "You go on with my bags to the Grand
Bab, and get me another taxi. I'll see you in my room at the hotel at
a quarter to one. Eh?"
"Rather!" agreed Mr. Marrier, submissive.
II
"Sole proprietor of the Regent Theatre."
These were the words which Edward Henry wrote on a visiting-card
and which procured him immediate admittance to the unique
spectacle--reputed to be one of the most enthralling sights in
London--of Sir John Pilgrim at breakfast.
In a very spacious front-room of his flat (so celebrated for its
Gobelins tapestries and its truly wonderful parquet-flooring) sat Sir
John Pilgrim at a large hexagonal mahogany table. At one side of the
table a small square of white diaper was arranged, and on this square
were an apparatus for boiling eggs, another for making toast, and
a third for making coffee.
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