M. Max, when he took his departure, found that the rain had ceased, and
accordingly he walked up Whitehall, interesting himself in those details
of midnight London life so absorbing to the visitor, though usually
overlooked by the resident.
Punctually at half-past nine, a claret-colored figure appeared in sedate
Harley Street. M. Gaston Max pressed the bell above which appeared:
DR. BRUCE CUMBERLY.
He was admitted by Garnham, who attended there daily during the hours
when Dr. Cumberly was visible to patients, and presently found himself
in the consulting room of the physician.
"Good morning, M. Gaston!" said Cumberly, rising and shaking his visitor
by the hand. "Pray sit down, and let us get to business. I can give you
a clear half-hour."
Max, by way of reply, selected a card from one of the several divisions
of his card-case, and placed it on the table. Cumberly glanced at it and
started slightly, turning and surveying his visitor with a new interest.
"You are M. Gaston Max!" he said, fixing his gray eyes upon the face of
the man before him. "I understood my daughter to say"...
Max waved his hands, deprecatingly.
"It is in the first place to apologize," he explained, "that I am here.
I was presented to your daughter in the name of Gaston--which is at
least part of my own name--and because other interests were involved I
found myself in the painful position of being presented to you under the
same false colors".
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