Part 3 (1/2)

Claudius laughed a little, but Barker did not smile. He was apparently occupied in inventing a patent transformation landscape on wheels. In reality, he was thinking out a _menu_ for dinner whereby he might feed his friend without starving himself. For Mr. Barker was particular about his meals, and accustomed to fare sumptuously every day, whereas he had observed that the Doctor was fond of sausages and decayed cabbage. But he knew such depraved tastes could not long withstand the blandishments and caressing hypersensualism of Delmonico, if he ever got the Doctor so far.

Having successfully accomplished the business of dining, Mr. Barker promised to return in an hour, and sallied out to find the British aristocracy, whom he knew. The British aristocracy was taking his coffee in solitude at the princ.i.p.al _cafe_, and hailed Mr. Barker's advent with considerable interest, for they had tastes in common.

”How are you, Duke?”

”Pretty fit, thanks. Where have you been?”

”Oh, all over. I was just looking for you.”

”Yes?” said the aristocracy interrogatively.

”Yes. I want you to introduce me to somebody you know.”

”Pleasure. Who?”

”She has black eyes and dark hair, very dark complexion, middling height, fine figure; carries an ivory-handled parasol with a big M and a crown.” Mr. Barker paused for a look of intelligence on the Englishman's face.

”Sure she's here?” inquired the latter.

”I won't swear. She was seen in Heidelberg, admiring views and dropping her parasol about, something like three weeks ago.”

”Oh! ah, yes. Come on.” And the British aristocracy settled the rose in his b.u.t.ton-hole and led the way. He moved strongly with long steps, but Mr. Barker walked delicately like Agag.

”By the by, Barker, she is a countrywoman of yours. She married a Russian, and her name is Margaret.”

”Was it a happy marriage?” asked the American, taking his cigar from his mouth.

”Exceedingly. Husband killed at Plevna. Left her lots of tin.”

They reached their destination. The Countess was at home. The Countess was enchanted to make the acquaintance of Monsieur, and on learning that he was an American and a compatriot, was delighted to see him. They conversed pleasantly. In the course of twenty minutes the aristocracy discovered he had an engagement and departed, but Mr. Barker remained.

It was rather stretching his advantage, but he did not lack confidence.

”So you, too, Countess, have been in Heidelberg this summer?”

”About three weeks ago. I am very fond of the old place.”

”Lovely, indeed,” said Barker. ”The castle, the old tower half blown away in that slovenly war--”

”Oh, such a funny thing happened to me there,” exclaimed the Countess Margaret, innocently falling into the trap. ”I was standing just at the edge with Miss Skeat--she is my companion, you know--and I dropped my parasol, and it fell rattling to the bottom, and suddenly there started, apparently out of s.p.a.ce--”

”A German professor, seven or eight feet high, who bounded after the sunshade, and bounded back and bowed and left you to your astonishment.

Is not that what you were going to say, Countess?”

”I believe you are a medium,” said the Countess, looking at Barker in astonishment. ”But perhaps you only guessed it. Can you tell me what he was like, this German professor?”

”Certainly. He had long yellow hair, and a beard like Rip van Winkle's, and large white hands; and he was altogether one of the most striking individuals you ever saw.”

”It is evident that you know him, Mr. Barker, and that he has told you the story. Though how you should have known it was I--”

”Guess-work and my friend's description.”