He determined to breakfast downtown, as he would arrive home too late for one meal and too early for the other.
Almost all of his money had been lost with the _Mazatlan_; he found he had but a dollar left.

He would have preferred breakfasting at the Grillroom, but concluded he was too shabby in appearance, and he knew he would get more for his money at the Imperial.
It was absolutely quiet in the Imperial at the hour when he arrived.

The single bartender was reading a paper, and in the passage between the private rooms a Chinese with a clean napkin wound around his head was polishing the brass and woodwork.

In the passage he met Toby, the red-eyed waiter, just going off night duty, without his usual apron or white coat, dressed very carefully, wearing a brown felt hat.
"Why, how do you do, Mr.Vandover ?" exclaimed Toby.

"Haven't seen you round here for some time." Vandover was about to answer when the other interrupted: "Well, what's happened to _you_?
Look as though you'd been drawn through hell backward and beaten with a cat!" In fact Vandover's appearance was extraordinary.