"Really," said Philip, "I don't know. Suppose you tell me what accommodation you have. Then I will decide at once." The official, who was one of the most skilled hotel clerks in London, found it ridiculous to be put out of countenance by a mere boy, who could not be a day older than seventeen, and might be a good deal less. He cast a critical eye on Philip's clothing, and saw that, while it was good, it had not the gloss of Vere de Vere. He would paralyze him at one fell blow, little dreaming that the other read his glance and knew the exact mental process of his reasoning. "There is a good suite vacant on the first floor, but it contains a dressing room and bath room," he said, smiling the smile of a very knowing person. "That sounds all right. I will take it." "Ah, yes. It costs five pounds a day!" Each of the six words in that portentous sentence contained a note of admiration that swelled out into a magnificent crescendo. It was a verbal avalanche, beneath which this queer youth should be crushed into the very dust. "Five pounds a day!" observed Philip, calmly. "I suppose there would be a reduction if taken for a month?" "Well--er--during the season it is not--er--usual to----" "Oh, very well. I can easily arrange for a permanency later if I think fit. What number is the suite, please, and will you kindly have my luggage sent there at once?" The clerk was demoralized, but he managed to say: "Do you quite understand the terms--thirty-five pounds a week!" "Yes," said Philip. "Shall I pay you a week in advance? I can give you notes, but it will oblige me if you take a check, as I may want the ready money in my possession." Receiving a faint indication that, under the circumstances, a check would be esteemed a favor, Philip whipped out his check book, filled in a check to the hotel, and did not forget to cross it "ac. payee." The clerk watched him with an amazement too acute for words. He produced the register and Philip signed his name. He was given a receipt for the payment on account, and then asked to be shown to his rooms. A boy smaller, but not younger, than himself--a smart page, who listened to the foregoing with deep interest--asked timidly whether the guest would go by the stairs or use the elevator. "I will walk," said Philip, who liked to ascertain his bearings. The palatial nature of the apartments took him by surprise when he reached them. Although far from being the most expensive suite in the hotel, the surroundings were of a nature vastly removed from anything hitherto known to him. Even the charming house he inhabited as a child in Dieppe contained no such luxury. His portmanteau followed quickly, and a valet entered. Philip's quick ears caught the accent of a Frenchman, and the boy spoke to the man in the language of his country, pure and undefiled by the barbarisms of John Bull.