ut quite bewildered--he struggled back to his
hotel. There he spun out his time by watching the people come and go, and
at last dressed with extra deliberation.

About eight o'clock he sat down to his solitary dinner. The great gilt and
panelled room was full of diners and bustling waiters, but there was not a
face the Baron had ever seen before. He was just finishing a plate of
whitebait when he observed a stranger enter the room and stroll in a very
self-possessed manner down the middle, glancing at the tables round him as
though he was looking either for a friend or a desirable seat. This
gentleman was tall, fair, and clean-shaved; he was dressed in a suit of
well-fitting tweeds, and his air impressed the Baron as being natural and
yet distinguished. At last his eye fell upon the Baron, who felt conscious
of undergoing a quick, critical scrutiny. The table at which that nobleman
sat was laid for two, and coming apparently to a sudden resolution, the
good-looking stranger seated himself in the vacant chair. In an agreeable
voice and with an unmistakably well-bred air he asked a waiter for the
wine-list, and then, like a man with an excellent appetite, fell to upon
the various _hors d'oeuvres_, the entire collection of which, in fact, he
consumed in a wonderfully short space of time. The Baron, being himself no
trifler with his victuals, regarded this feat with sympathetic approval,
and began to feel a little less alone in the world. His naturally open
disposition was warmed besides, owing to a slight misconception he had
fallen into, perfectly excusable however in a foreigner. He thought he had
read somewhere that port was the usual accompaniment to the first courses
of an English dinner, and as his waiter had been somewhat dilatory in
bringing him the more substantial items of the repast, he had already
drunk three claret-glasses of this cheering wine. The chill recollections
of his sixteen quarterings and the exclusiveness he had determined to
maintain as becoming to his rank were already melting, and he met the
stranger's eye with what for the life of him he could not help being a
cordial look.

His _vis-a-vis_ caught the glance, smiled back, and immediately asked,
with the most charming politeness, "Do you care, sir, to split a bottle of
champagne?"

"To--er--_shplid?_" said the Baron, with a disappointed consciousness of
having been put at a loss in his English by the very first man who had
spoken to him.

"I