nquired Mr. Spokesly.

"Oh, yes. The _best_ place. My friend, he goes there often. By and by,
of course, we'll go along and see the talent. I'll show you, my boy.
Believe me...." They crossed the car lines and walked towards the cafe
which Mr. Bates's friend honoured. Floka's was full. The little tables
outside were thickly populated with gentlemen engaged in the national
pastime of cigarette-smoking and coffee-drinking, and the grandiose
interior, as severe and lofty and dirty as a Balkan politician, was
thick with smoke and murmurous with conversation and the consumption of
food. Mr. Bates led the way to a far corner where a long thin man, his
frock coat falling away open from a heavily brocaded vest with onyx
buttons, and his scarlet tarboosh on one side of his head, was lolling
on the crimson plush cushions. In one hand he held the stem of an
amber-mouthed _narghileh_. On the table was an empty coffee cup and a
glass of mastic. Across his long thin thighs lay a Greek newspaper. He
was reclining completely inert, gazing moodily across the crowded
restaurant. The alteration in his demeanour when he became aware of Mr.
Bates standing before him was dramatic. It was as though he had suddenly
seen a very funny joke and had been subjected to an electric current of
high voltage at the same time. He sprang to his feet with extraordinary
animation, and his face was contorted from a sombre melancholy to what
seemed to be an almost demoniac joy. It would be a solecism to say he
looked as though a fortune had been left him. No one was at all likely
to leave Mr. Dainopoulos a fortune. No one had ever left anything of
value within his reach without regretting it extremely. It will suffice
to say that his features registered a certain degree of pleasure upon
seeing Mr. Bates.

"Why, my dear friend!" he exclaimed in a sort of muffled scream, and he
wrung the honest hand of Mr. Bates as though that gentleman had only
that moment rescued him from a combination of drowning and bankruptcy.
"And how are you? Sit down if you please. What will you have to drink?
You must be--what you call it?--dry. Ha-ha! Sit down. This is good luck.
Your friend? I am very pleased. Sit down please. Here!" He clapped his
hands with frightful vehemence, and held up a distracted waiter who was
in full flight towards a distant table with a loaded tray. Mr.
Dainopoulos, gently pressing Mr. Bates and Mr. Spokesly into two chairs,
addressed the waiter as Herakl