The Club of Queer Trades
and hospitable dining-room, surrounded upon almost every side by faces that I knew. There was Mr. Montmorency, the Arboreal House-Agent, seated between the two brisk young men who were occasionally vicars and always Professional Detainers. There was Mr. P. G. Northover, founder of the Adventure and Romance Agency. There was Professor Chadd, who invented the Dancing Language.
As we entered all the members seemed to sink suddenly into their chairs, and with the very action the vacancy of the presidential seat gaped at us like a missing tooth.
"The president's not here," said Mr. P. G. Northover, turning suddenly to Professor Chadd.
"N-no," said that philosopher, with more than his ordinary vagueness. "I can't imagine where he is."
"Good Heavens," said Mr. Montmorency, jumping up, "I really feel a little nervous. I'll go and see." And he ran out of the room.
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