Something clicked to the floor,
but he did not notice it. The dressing proceeded in a whirl, Adolph much
impressed by the splendors of his friend's toilet. A fine shirt of tucked
linen, immaculate pumps, links of dull gold--his comrade in Bohemia had
completely vanished.
"O la, la!" cried he, beaming, "now I see it is true about all your
riches!"
"I'm going to take a taxi," Stefan announced as he slipped into his coat;
"can I drop you?"
He stood ready, having overtaken Adolph's sketchy but leisured dressing.
"What speed, my child! One moment!" Adolph shook on his coat, found his
glasses, and was crossing to put out the lamp when his foot struck a
small object.
"What is this, something of yours?" He stooped and picked up a framed
snapshot of a girl playing with a baby. "How beautiful!" he exclaimed,
holding it under the lamp.
"Oh, yes," said Stefan with a slight frown, "that's Mary. I didn't know I
had it with me. Come on, Adolph," and he tossed the picture back into the
open Gladstone.
While Adolph found a taxi, Stefan paused a moment to question the
concierge. Yes, monsieur's note had been left that afternoon, Madame
remembered, by une petite Chinoise, bien chic, who had asked if Monsieur
lived here. Madame's aged eyes snapped with Gallic appreciation of a
possible intrigue.
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