For a moment the dragoman seemed
really astounded out of specch. Then he plunged
into the manager's room. Was it conceivable that
Monsieur Coleman was still at luncheon? Yes; in
fact, it was true. But the carriage, was at the door!
The carriage was at the door! The manager,
undisturbed, asked for what hour Monsieur Coleman had
been pleased to order a carriage. Three o'clock !
Three o'clock? The manager pointed calmly at the
clock. Very well. It was now only thirteen minutes
of three o'clock. Monsieur Coleman doubtless would
appear at three. Until that hour the manager would
not disturb Monsieur Coleman. The dragoman
clutched both his hands in his hair and cast a look of
agony to the ceiling. Great God! Had he accomplished
the herculean task of getting a carriage for
four people to the door of the hotel in time for a drive
at three o'clock, only to meet with this stoniness, this
inhumanity? Ah, it was unendurable? He begged
the manager; he implored him. But at every word.
the manager seemed to grow more indifferent, more
callous. He pointed with a wooden finger at the
clock-face. In reality, it is thus, that Greek meets
Greek.
Professor Wainwright and Coleman strolled together
out of the dining room. The dragoman rushed ecstatically
upon the correspondent. " Oh, Meester Coleman!
The carge is ready !"
"Well, all right," said Coleman, knocking ashes
from his cigar. "Don't be in a hurry. I suppose
we'll be ready, presently.
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