Moreover, when Claude de Chauxville entered the table d'hote room, he concealed whatever surprise he may have felt behind a cloud of cigarette smoke.
Through the same blue haze he met the Frenchman's eye, a moment later, without the faintest twinkle of recognition.
These two worthies went through the weird courses provided by a cook professing a knowledge of French _cuisine_ without taking any compromising notice of each other.

When the meal was over Vassili inscribed the number of his bedroom in large figures on the label of his bottle of St.Emilion--after the manner of wise commercial-travellers in continental hotels.

He subsequently turned the bottle round so that Claude de Chauxville could scarcely fail to read the number, and with a vague and general bow he left the room.
In his apartment the genial Vassili threw more wood into the stove, drew forward the two regulation arm-chairs, and lighted all the candles provided.

He then rang the bell and ordered liqueurs.

There was evidently something in the nature of an entertainment about to take place in apartment No.