silent. Several times I made casual remarks. Once or twice I tried to
learn from him what sort of a place this was to which we were
bound. He answered me only in monosyllables. I was conscious all the
time of a certain subtle but unmistakable change in his manner. Up to
the moment of his suggesting this expedition he had remained the
suave, perfectly mannered superior servant, accepted into equality for
a time by one of his clients, and very careful not to presume in any
way upon his position. It is not snobbish to say this, because it was
the truth. Louis was chief _maitre d'hotel_ at one of the best
restaurants in London. I was an ex-officer in a cavalry regiment,
brother of the Earl of Welmington, with a moderate income, and a more
than moderate idea of how to spend it. Louis was servant and I was
master. It had pleased me to make a companion of him for a short time,
and his manner had been a perfect acknowledgment of our relative
positions. And now it seemed to me that there was a change. Louis had
become more like a man, less like a waiter. There was a strength in
his face which I had not previously observed, a darkening anxiety
which puzzled me. He treated my few remarks with scant courtesy. He
was obviously thinking about something else. It seemed as though, for
some inexplicable reason, he had already repented of his suggestion.

"Look here, Louis," I said, "you seem a little bothered about taking
me to this place. Perhaps they do not care about strangers there. I am
not at all keen, really, and I am afraid I am not fit company for
anybody. Better drop me here and go on by yourself. I can amuse myself
all right at some of these little out-of-the-way places until I feel
inclined to go home."

Louis turned and looked at me. For a moment I thought that he was
going to accept my offer. He opened his mouth but said nothing. He