He
barely gave himself time to shake hands with me and made a rush at the
narrow glass door with the words Hotel Entrance on it. It swung to
behind his back with no more noise than the snap of a toothless jaw.
The absurd temptation to remain and see what would come of it got over my
better judgment. I hung about irresolute, wondering how long an embassy
of that sort would take, and whether Fyne on coming out would consent to
be communicative. I feared he would be shocked at finding me there,
would consider my conduct incorrect, conceivably treat me with contempt.
I walked off a few paces. Perhaps it would be possible to read something
on Fyne's face as he came out; and, if necessary, I could always eclipse
myself discreetly through the door of one of the bars. The ground floor
of the Eastern Hotel was an unabashed pub, with plate-glass fronts, a
display of brass rails, and divided into many compartments each having
its own entrance.
But of course all this was silly. The marriage, the love, the affairs of
Captain Anthony were none of my business. I was on the point of moving
down the street for good when my attention was attracted by a girl
approaching the hotel entrance from the west.
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