my other—ah—my other friends? They were leaving too, I think."
"Which was those?"
"Mr. Tinker and"
The face of the concierge brightened to excess and he laughed. "Aha! Mr. Tinker!" he cried. "Mr. Tinker is a friend of yours, yes? Hah! Mr. Tinker and his family and the courier and the two chauffeurs and two cars, yes, they have left for Tunis at three o'clock yesterday. They go the same way you do; you will be only two days behind them. You will see Mr. Tinker in Tunis then? But it is likely you are going there for that reason, of course. You must please give my respects to him, if you will do that, and from the proprietors also; they would wish to send their regards. You will certainly see Mr. Tinker in Tunis, you think so?"
"I don't know," Ogle said. "If I do, I'll give him your message. I may run across him there, or I may not; I can't tell."
But as he turned away to go back to his room, he felt that faint and poisonous sly sting again. This time he resented it. "I'd never do such a thing in the world!" he said, with feeble indignation, to the staircase.
