"At the Schweizerhof," replied Flemming. "I always take the hotel nearest the station. Few Americans go there, I fancy. It is wonderfully and fearfully Swiss. I was strolling in here to look through the register for some American autographs when I ran against you." "You had better bring your traps over here." "It would not be worth while. I am booked for Paris to-morrow night. Ned--come with me!" "I can't, Flemming; I have agreed to go to Chamouni with the Denhams." "Don't!" "That is like advising a famishing man not to eat his last morsel of food. I have a presentiment it will all end there. I never had a presentiment before." "I had a presentiment once," said Flemming impressively. "I had a presentiment that a certain number--it was number twenty-seven--would draw the prize in a certain lottery. I went to the office, and number twenty-seven was one of the two numbers unsold! I bought it as quick as lightning, I dreamed of number twenty-seven three successive nights, and the next day it drew a blank." "That has the ring of the old Flemming!" cried Lynde, with an unforced laugh. "I am glad that I have not succeeded in turning all your joyous gold into lead. I'm not always such dull company as I have been to-night, with my moods and my presentiments. I owe them partly, perhaps, to not seeing Miss Denham to-day, the aunt having a headache." "You were not in a rollicking humor when I picked you up." "I had been cruising about town all the morning alone, making assaults on the Musee Fol, the Botanic Garden, and the Jewish Synagogue. In the afternoon I had wrecked myself on Rousseau's Island, where I sat on a bench staring at Pradier's poor statue of Jean Jacques until I fancied that the ugly bronze cannibal was making mouths at me. When the aunt has a headache, _I_ suffer. Flemming, you must see Miss Denham, if only for a moment." "Of course I should like to see her, Ned." "You do not leave until evening," Lynde said, reflecting. "I think I can manage a little dinner for to-morrow. Now let us take a breath of fresh air. I know the queerest old nook, in the Rue de Chantpoulet, where the Bavarian beer is excellent and all the company smoke the most enormous porcelain pipes. Haven't I hit one of your weaknesses?" "You have hit a brace!" VII THE DENHAMS