So much, and no more, did the youth in charge of the counter observe--not a great deal, but it went a long way before midnight.
A clock in the hall showed that the hour was five minutes to seven.
Half hoping that Devar might actually put in an appearance a little later, Curtis gave his hat and coat to a negro, and decided to dine in the hotel.

Evidently, the place still retained its old-time repute as a family and commercial resort.

The family element was in evidence at some of the tables, while, in the case of solitary diners, each man could have been labeled Pittsburg, Chicago, or Philadelphia, almost without error, by those acquainted with the industrial life of the United States.
He ate well, if simply, and treated himself to a small bottle of a noted champagne.

At half-past seven, meaning to give Devar ten minutes' grace, he ordered coffee and a glass of green Chartreuse.

As a time-killer, there is no liqueur more potent, but, regarded in the light of subsequent occurrences, it would be hard to say exactly how far the cunning monkish decoction helped in determining his wayward actions.