"
They might be prepared, but Larry certainly was not; and he shot up
the elevator to the top floor with mounting bewilderment. The man
unlocked the door of an apartment, ushered Larry in, took his wet hat,
then ushered the dazed Larry through the corner of a dim-lit drawing-
room and through another door.
"You are to wait here, sir," said the man, and quietly withdrew.
Larry looked about him. He took in but a few details, but he knew
enough about the better fittings of life to realize that he was in the
presence of both money and the best of taste. He noted the log fire in
the broad fireplace, comfortable chairs, the imported rugs on the
gleaming floor, the shelves of books which climbed to the ceiling, a
quaint writing-desk in one corner which seemed to belong to another
country and another century, but which was perfectly at home in this
room.
On the desk he saw standing a leather-framed photograph which seemed
familiar. He crossed and picked it up. Indeed it was familiar! It was
a photograph of Hunt: of Hunt, not in the shabby, shapeless garments
he wore down at the Duchess's, but Hunt accoutered as might be a man
accustomed to such a room as this--though in this picture there was
the same strong chin, the same belligerent good-natured eyes.
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