I can't find out what sort they are, though. I
suspect some sort of an orgy on the order of the Black Mass."
At 2 o'clock we left our room and headed for the house of Queen Bess.
* * * * *
A huge and ornamental chamber known as the ballroom, or the parlor, had
been converted into a dining-room. Ned and I were early. Six or seven men
had arrived. They stood around ill at ease, looking at the flamboyant
paintings on the wall as if they were inspecting the Titian room of some
museum. Ned, who knew the town, pointed out two of the six as men of
means. One was manager of a store. One was a billiard champion in a
Michigan Avenue club.
Gradually the room filled up. A dozen more men arrived. Each was admitted
by invitation as we had been. Sally, the colored mammy of the house, took
charge and bade us be seated. Some twenty men took their places about the
long rectangular table. And then a pianist entered. I think it was Prof.
Schultz. He played the piano in the ballrooms of the district. He came in
in a brand-new frock coat and patent leather shoes and sat down at the
ivories. There was a pause and then the professor struck up, doloroso
pianissimo, the tune of "Home, Sweet Home.
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