His face was
flushed, and his eyes so bright that there would have been but one
diagnosis by the average observer. But the porter knew that Langholm had
come in sober, and that for the last twenty minutes he had sat absorbed
in the hotel register.
"I see," said Langholm--and even his voice was altered, which made the
other stare the harder--"I see that a friend of mine stayed here just
upon a year ago. I wonder if you remember him?"
"If it was the off-season, sir, I dare say I shall."
"It was in September, and his name was Steel."
"How long did he stay?"
"Only one night, I gather--an elderly gentleman with very white hair."
The porter's face lighted up.
"I remember him, sir! I should think I did! A very rich gentleman, I
should say; yes, he only stayed the one night, but he gave me a
sovereign when he went away next day."
"He is very rich," said Langholm, repressing by main force a desire to
ask a string of questions. He fancied that the porter was not one who
needed questioning, and his patience had its immediate reward.
"I remember when he arrived," the man went on. "It was late at night,
and he hadn't ordered his room.
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