Perhaps the strange incident helped me rather than otherwise in a thing
I had had quite heavily on my mind. This was the stepping out of the
hansom I had picked up in the Circus and my entry into the hotel.
Concerned with so much else, I had now no unconcern to rehearse. I threw
my hat and coat into a pair of hands that for all I knew might not have
been attached to any human body, and grunted out Pepper's name as if I
had been a preoccupied monarch. I was one of twenty others who lounged
or waited in the softly lighted hall, but I think the only conspicuous
thing about me was my size.... Then I was aware of Pepper himself,
beckoning to me across intervening heads and shoulders.
"Here he is--late as usual," he said, as if a nightly unpunctuality at
such places as the Berkeley was a weakness without which I should have
been an excellent fellow.
To my abstracted apology I added that not only was I late, but must
leave fairly early also.
"Not unless it's for a woman," Pepper laughed. "We'll let him go then,
eh, Robson? This is Jeffries--Sir Peregrine Campbell--Mr Robson. Well,
let's go up. _Seniores priores_, Campbell."
We sought the private room Pepper had engaged.
Even had the deep disturbance of my meeting Louie Causton face to face
(if I may call it that) not banished things of less consequence, I still
do not think that, socially speaking, I should have let Pepper down too
badly. It was less formidable than I had feared. Robson, whom I need not
describe, since you know his face from his countless photographs, had
evidently, from the look of his shoulders, brushed his hair after
putting his coat on; and Sir Peregrine Campbell made his vast silver
beard a reason for not wearing a tie beneath it. A watch-chain or a ring
apart, Hastie's and Pepper's clothes were no better than those I wore.
The table was round. I was put between Pepper and Robson, and Pepper's
command to a waiter, "Just take that thing away, will you?"--the thing
being a centrepiece of flowers--enabled me to see Hastie and Campbell on
the other side.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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