courses of
our supper and started to sip a liqueur than we are suddenly plunged
into darkness. A hint! A warning! A silent but eloquent reminder that
the moral man must hasten to his bed, that midnight is upon us, that
respectability demands immediate retirement. When the lights come on
again there is a gentle fluttering of silken wraps, a shuffling of feet,
a movement of chairs. The crowds, preparing to depart, are obeying that
lofty English law which makes eating illegal after twelve-thirty. If you
tarry after this signal for departure, a Parisian born waiter taps you
gently on the shoulder and begs of you to respect the majesty of the
law. Within ten minutes of the darkened warning the dining room is
empty. Liqueurs are left undrunk. Ices are deserted. Half-consumed
salads are abandoned. Out into the waiting taxis and limousines pours
that vast assemblage. In fifteen minutes an atmosphere of desolation
settles upon the streets. The day is ended--completely, finally,
irrevocably. The moral subtleties of the fathers have been sensed and
obeyed. Virtue snickers triumphantly.

"And now?" I demand of my companion.

"S-s-s-h!" he warns. And, leaning over me, he pours strange and lurid
information into my gaping ear. "Now," he whispers, "to the Supper
Clubs, the real night life of London--wine, women, song and dance."

There is a mystery in his mien. And, obeying the warning of an
admonishing finger, I silently follow him into a taxicab. A low,
guttural order is given to the driver, the import of which is shielded
from the inquisitive world by my companion using his hands as a tube to
connect his mouth with the ear of the chauffeur.

I had heard of these supper clubs, but they had meant nothing to me. I
rarely ate supper and detested clubs. Their literature which frequently
came to me, had left me cold. But, as I was carried in the taxicab
through dark alleys and twisted streets, certain intimations in these
printed invitations came back to me with a new meaning. Lest the
iniquity of the London pleasure seeker be underestimated, let me supply
you with the details of one of these supper club circulars. I will not
tell you the name of the club: it has probably been changed by now. No
sooner do the police put one club out of business (so far as I can see,
merely to gratify the demand of the moralists that all sinners be flayed
in public) than it changes its name and reopens to the old membership.
Let it be noted here that