at the best hotel in the town, his own cart and blood mares over from England; everything in tip-top style."
"It's very interesting," remarked the young man smiling, and when he smiled his eyelids came together leaving a mere horizontal gleam of blue.
"Oh, he's very interesting," repeated Morris; "has done a lot, and seen no end."
"I think I should like to know him," observed the young man nonchalantly, and resumed his peregrinations.
The baccarat party broke up, and Garve, entering the vestibule, arrested Morris in his turn.
"Do you know who it was took your seat at the table this evening?" he inquired.
"Oh, yes; know him well. His name's Underhill. He's an American. Only landed at Hamburg this morning. I happened to be up at the Kronprinz when he arrived, and knowing the ropes there, was able to get him a better room than even the almighty dollar would have procured him."
Garve pondered. "It's to be hoped he's got the almighty dollar in good earnest," said he. "Do you know he's dropped a thousand pounds?"
Morris whistled.
"By-the-bye, has he any one with him?" asked the baronet.
"No, he's quite alone. Come to Europe to study art or literature or some tommy-rot of that sort."
"Then the money was probably his year's screw. I feel very sorry about it."
Morris thought there was no need to fret; evidently he was a millionaire. How else could he afford to waste his time studying art?
