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 down…“let me see, whom did you say you were?”

“Lucas, sir—at your service.”

“Ah,” muttered the man, lowering his eyes in unmistakable shame—“yes, yes, of course. You are new here?”

“Yes, sir. Shall I prepare your bath?”

“Yes, please. This is Wednesday morning?”

“Wednesday morning, sir; yes.”

“Of course—it is Wednesday. You said your name was?”

“Lucas, sir,” reiterated Soames, and, crossing the fantastic apartment, he entered the bath-room beyond.

This contained the most modern appointments and was on an altogether more luxurious scale than that attached to his own quarters. He noted, without drawing any deduction from the circumstance, that the fittings were of American manufacture. Here, as in the outer room, there was no window; an electric light hung from the center of the ceiling. Soames busied himself in filling the bath, and laying out the towels upon the rack.

“Fairly warm, sir?” he asked.

“Not too warm, thank you,” replied the other, now stumbling out of bed and falling into the armchair—“not too warm.”

“If you will take your bath, sir,” said Soames, returning to the outer room, “I will brush your clothes and be ready to shave you.”