A SHOCK FOR MR. BREWSTER
Mr. Daniel Brewster sat in his at the Cosmopolis, one of his and with his old friend, Professor Binstead. A who had only Mr. Brewster in the of the hotel would have been at the of his sitting-room, for it had none of the which was the of its owner’s personal appearance. Daniel Brewster was a man with a hobby. He was what Parker, his valet, a connoozer. His taste in Art was one of the which to make the Cosmopolis different from and to other New York hotels. He had personally the in the dining-room and the paintings the building. And in his private he was an of which Professor Binstead, tastes in the same direction, would have without a of if he have got the chance.
The professor, a small man of middle age who tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, about the room, its with a eye. In a corner, Parker, a grave, individual, over the chafing-dish, in which he was preparing for his and his guest their lunch.
“Brewster,” said Professor Binstead, at the mantelpiece.
Mr. Brewster looked up amiably. He was in mood to-day. Two and more had passed since the meeting with Archie recorded in the previous chapter, and he had been able to that from his mind. Since then, had gone with Daniel Brewster, for he had just his of the moment by the for the purchase of a site down-town, on which he to a new hotel. He liked hotels. He had the Cosmopolis, his first-born, a hotel in the mountains, purchased in the previous year, and he was with the idea of over to England and up another in London, That, however, would have to wait. Meanwhile, he would on this new one down-town. It had him and worried, for the site; but his were over now.
“Yes?” he said.
Professor Binstead had up a small of workmanship. It a of pre-khaki days with a upon some who, from the on the warrior’s face, was smaller than himself.
“Where did you this?”
“That? Mawson, my agent, it in a little shop on the east side.”
“Where’s the other? There ought to be another. These go in pairs. They’re valueless alone.”
Mr. Brewster’s clouded.
“I know that,” he said shortly. “Mawson’s looking for the other one everywhere. If you across it, I give you to it for me.”
“It must be somewhere.”
“Yes. If you it, don’t worry about the expense. I’ll settle up, no what it is.”
“I’ll it in mind,” said Professor Binstead. “It may cost you a of money. I you know that.”
“I told you I don’t what it costs.”
“It’s to be a millionaire,” Professor Binstead.
“Luncheon is served, sir,” said Parker.
He had himself in a Mr. Brewster’s chair, when there was a at the door. He to the door, and returned with a telegram.
“Telegram for you, sir.”
Mr. Brewster carelessly. The of the chafing-dish had the of their odour, and he was too to be interrupted.
“Put it down. And you needn’t wait, Parker.”
“Very good, sir.”
The withdrew, and Mr. Brewster his lunch.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” asked Professor Binstead, to a was a telegram.
“It can wait. I them all day long. I it’s from Lucille, saying what train she’s making.”
“She returns to-day?”
“Yes, Been at Miami.” Mr. Brewster, having at length on the of the chafing-dish, his and took up the envelope. “I shall be glad—Great Godfrey!”
He sat at the telegram, his mouth open. His friend him solicitously.
“No news, I hope?”
Mr. Brewster in a way.
“Bad news? Bad—? Here, read it for yourself.”
Professor Binstead, one of the three most men in New York, took the of paper with gratitude.
“‘Returning New York to-day with Archie,’” he read. “‘Lots of love from us both. Lucille.’” He at his host. “Who is Archie?” he enquired.
“Who is Archie?” Mr. Brewster helplessly. “Who is—? That’s just what I would like to know.”
“‘Darling Archie,’” the professor, over the telegram. “‘Returning to-day with Archie.’ Strange!”
Mr. Brewster to him. When you send your only on a visit to Miami any and she in a that she has a Archie, you are naturally startled. He rose from the table with a bound. It had to him that by a study of his the past week, as was his when busy, he had an opportunity of with happenings. He now that a had from Lucille some time ago, and that he had put it away till he should have to read it. Lucille was a dear girl, he had felt, but her when on a anything that couldn’t wait a days for a reading. He for his desk, among his papers, and what he was seeking.
It was a long letter, and there was in the room for some moments while he its contents. Then he to the professor, heavily.
“Good heavens!”
“Yes?” said Professor Binstead eagerly. “Yes?”
“Good Lord!”
“Well?”
“Good gracious!”
“What is it?” the in an agony.
Mr. Brewster sat again with a thud.
“She’s married!”
“Married!”
“Married! To an Englishman!”
“Bless my soul!”
“She says,” Mr. Brewster, to the again, “that they were so much in love that they had to off and married, and she I won’t be cross. Cross!” Mr. Brewster, at his friend.
“Very disturbing!”
“Disturbing! You it’s disturbing! I don’t know anything about the fellow. Never of him in my life. She says he wanted a wedding he a looked such a married! And I must love him, he’s all set to love me very much!”
“Extraordinary!”
Mr. Brewster put the down.
“An Englishman!”
“I have met some very Englishmen,” said Professor Binstead.
“I don’t like Englishmen,” Mr. Brewster. “Parker’s an Englishman.”
“Your valet?”
“Yes. I he my on the sly,’” said Mr. Brewster broodingly, “If I catch him—! What would you do about this, Binstead?”
“Do?” The the point judicially. “Well, really, Brewster, I do not see that there is anything you can do. You must wait and meet the man. Perhaps he will turn out an son-in-law.”
“H’m!” Mr. Brewster to take an view. “But an Englishman, Binstead!” he said with pathos. “Why,” he on, memory stirring, “there was an Englishman at this hotel only a week or two ago who about it in a way that would have you! Said it was a place! My hotel!”
Professor Binstead his sympathetically. He his friend’s warmth.
