As O'Higgins signed the hotel register, his keen glance took in the latest signatures.
"Anywhere," he said in answer to the manager's query.

"I'm not particular about rooms.

Where's the dining room?
And, say, can I have some eggs?
This jam-tea breakfast gets my goat." "Come this way, Mr.O'Higgins," said the manager, amusedly.
O'Higgins followed him into the dining room.

That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought.

It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H.There was something fatalistic about the letter H.The individual twist was always there, even in the cleverest forgeries.
The eggs were all right, but nobody in this part of the world had the least conception of what the coffee bean was for.