"Naturally. Naturally. Yes, Mr. Gyde had it installed when the hotel was built. But there are only two rooms in the suite, and it does not communicate directly with any other. Moreover the bedroom is quite dark. It wouldn't do at all." "Hm!" said Jack. "I suppose not." "But on the same floor, practically adjoining you might say, there is a magnificent corner-suite of six rooms--the finest in the house. People call it the State suite. Prince Boris occupied it on his recent visit, and the President of Managuay always reserves it." The apparently indifferent Bobo's ears stretched at this. "The famous Louis Quinze salon with ceilings by Guglielmetti is included in this suite, and the Dutch dining-room decorated by Troward Handler Misty. Each of the bedrooms is done in a different period. I assure you there is nothing like it in New York. It extends all the way down the south side of the building, and it is only a matter of cutting diagonally across the corridor to reach the late Mr. Gyde's suite, which occupies the back corner of that floor. Those rooms belong to Mr. Norman anyway since they were exempted from our lease. Together with the state suite they would make--but let me have the pleasure of showing them to you." "What do you think, Mr. Norman?" asked Jack respectfully. "Oh, take them," said Bobo. "We can change later, if we're not suited." He gave the yellow stick a twirl. "Certainly, sir." Having been shown up to their magnificent quarters, Jack firmly dismissed the train of admiring clerks, bell boys and maids who overwhelmed them with attentions. Bobo was bearing himself with admirable nonchalance, but Jack thought he saw signs of a coming crack under the strain. There was something comically disproportionate in the relation of their two little selves and their two little valises to that endless suite. "Our baggage will come to-morrow," Jack casually remarked. When they were left alone in the Louis Quinze salon panelled in blue brocade, they looked around, and they looked at each other. "Some li'l sittin'-room," said Jack. "My God!" cried Bobo. "An hour ago I was sitting on a bench in Bryant Square with my stomach deflated like a punctured tube!" "Some rapid rise." Bobo gravely butted his head against the blue satin brocade. "Sure if I was asleep, that would wake me up." "Oh, cheer up! We couldn't both be having the same dream together." "That's true!" said Bobo, looking wonderfully relieved. "Let's go into the next room," said Jack. "Louis Quinze isn't homelike." Entering the Dutch room, he said: "This is rather classy. We can have some nice little parties in here." "I wish it was time to eat again," said Bobo with sudden recollection. "What a lot of time we waste digesting!" They were presently informed over the telephone that Mr. Pope of the _Sphere_ and Mr. Wallis of the _Constellation_ requested a word or two with Mr. Norman.