He addressed
Mr. Bundercombe with an air of deep respect in which was visible, too, an
air of relieved apprehension. He took our order himself, with the aid of
an assistant _maitre d'hotel_, at whom Mr. Bundercombe glanced with some
surprise.
"Where is Louis?" he inquired.
"Gone--left!" Luigi answered.
Mr. Bundercombe was obviously disappointed.
"Say, is that so!" he exclaimed, "Why, I thought he was a fixture! Been
here a long time, had'nt he?"
"Nearly twelve years," Luigi admitted.
"Has he got a restaurant of his own?" Mr. Bundercombe asked.
Luigi shook his head.
"On the contrary, sir," he replied, "I think Louis has gone off his head.
He has taken a very much inferior post at a very inferior place. A
restaurant of a different class altogether--not at all _comme il faut_; a
little place for the multitude--Giatron's, in Soho. The foolishness of it
--for all his old clients must be useless! No one would eat in such a hole.
It is most mysterious!"
We dined well and gayly. Mr. Bundercombe renewed many restaurant
acquaintances and I am quite sure he thoroughly enjoyed himself. Every now
and then, however, a shadow rested on his face. Watching him, I felt quite
certain of the reason.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211