westernmost extremity of the sea front--and riding on a fair wide
road.



XXIII

The ostler (being a fool) rushed violently down the road
vociferating after them. Then he returned panting to the Vicuna
Hotel, and finding a group of men outside the entrance, who
wanted to know what was UP, stopped to give them the cream of the
adventure. That gave the fugitives five minutes. Then pushing
breathlessly into the bar, he had to make it clear to the barmaid
what the matter was, and the 'gov'nor' being out , they spent
some more precious time wondering 'what--EVER' was to be done! in
which the two customers returning from outside joined with
animation. There were also moral remarks and other irrelevant
contributions. There were conflicting ideas of telling the police
and pursuing the flying couple on a horse. That made ten minutes.
Then Stephen, the waiter, who had shown Hoopdriver up, came down
and lit wonderful lights and started quite a fresh discussion by
the simple question "WHICH?" That turned ten minutes into a
quarter of an hour. And in the midst of this discussion, making a
sudden and awestricken silence, appeared Bechamel in the hall
beyond the bar, walked with a resolute air to the foot of the
staircase, and passed out of sight. You conceive the backward
pitch of that exceptionally shaped cranium? Incredulous eyes
stared into one another's in the bar, as his paces, muffled by
the stair carpet, went up to the landing, turned, reached the
passage and walked into the dining-room overhead.