In short, his reflections were becoming somewhat bitter; and persuaded
that he had nothing to gain by remaining there any longer he was about
to walk off, when his really remarkable persistency received a trivial
reward.
One of the windows communicating with the balcony was suddenly thrown
open, so that Sowerby had a distant view of the corner of a picture, of
the extreme top of a book-case, and of a patch of white ceiling in the
room above; furthermore he had a clear sight of the man who had opened
the window, and who now turned and reentered the room. The man was Sir
Brian Malpas.
Heedless of the roaring traffic stream, upon the brink of which he
stood, heedless of all who passed him by, Sowerby gazed aloft, seeking
to project himself, as it were, into that lighted room. Not being an
accomplished clairvoyant, he remained in all his component parts upon
the pavement of Piccadilly; but ours is the privilege to succeed where
Sowerby failed, and the comedy being enacted in the room above should
prove well deserving of study.
To the tactful diplomacy of M. Gaston Max, the task of securing from
Sir Brian an invitation to step up into his chambers in order to smoke
a final cigar was no heavy one. He seated himself in a deep armchair, at
the baronet's invitation, and accepted a very fine cigar, contentedly,
sniffing at the old cognac with the appreciation of a connoisseur, ere
holding it under the syphon.
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