In addition to
the inevitable high stools, there were several little compartments
screened off, after the fashion of the old-fashioned English coffee-room
of the seventeenth century, and furnished with easy-chairs and lounges of
the most luxurious description. In one of these we were now sitting.
"Better not ask me that," Guest answered dryly. "There are some places in
New York of strange reputation, and this is one of them. Now go ahead!"
I told him everything. He was a good listener. He asked no questions, he
understood everything. When I had finished, he smoked a cigarette through
before he said a word. Then he stood up and gave me my hat.
"Come," he said, "we have a busy morning before us, and we must catch the
German steamer for Hamburg this afternoon."
"Back to Europe?" I asked, as we left the place.
"Yes!"
"But won't that rather give us away?" I asked. "I came to go out West,
you know."
"We must try and arrange that," Guest answered. "I'll explain as we go
along."
We climbed an iron staircase, which came down to the pavement within a
few yards of the bar, and took the elevated railway up town.
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