"Great heavens!" he said to himself, "such a sight is enough to bring ill-luck to a man!" and in this, curiously enough, the Honourable John was right. That face was even more sinister than it seemed, so far as Mr. Hazel's affairs were concerned. Jack remembered, with a laugh, that he had seen the man before at the Scientific Society's Club, but somehow in the daylight he did not appear so gruesome. It was the sudden emerging of the countenance into the light, and its equally sudden withdrawal, that affected Jack's nerves.
It was nearly one o'clock when Hazel reached the door of the mansion he sought. Not a light shone from any of the windows of the great house, and he feared that his host had gone to bed. It was just the ill-mannered kind of thing Isaacstein would delight in—invite a man to his house, and then shut the door upon him. However, when Hazel rang, the door was at once opened, and he entered.
He found the courteous Isador voraciously devouring supper, a jug of champagne at his elbow, partly filled with ice, as is the habit in some parts of the Continent.
"Waiting for you, my boy," cried Isaacstein. "Draw up a chair. If you don't see what you want, ring for it."
The Honourable Jack knew that Isador's champagne was excellent, whether taken out of a bottle, or from a jug, and besides, he realised that he was hungry, for bridge is an absorbing game.
