But Mr. Barker had shot his arrow, and started cleverly as he answered--

"Did I say anything? I must have been talking to myself."

Claudius was not so sure. However, the hint had produced its effect,
falling, as it did, into the vague current of his thoughts and giving
them direction. He began to wonder whether there was any likelihood of
his meeting the woman of whom he had thought so much, and before long he
found himself constructing a conversation, supposed to take place on
their first encounter, overleaping such trifles as probability, the
question of an introduction, and other formalities with the ready
agility of a mind accustomed to speculation.

"The scenery is fine, is it not?" remarked Claudius tritely as they
neared Baden.

"Oh yes, for Europe. We manage our landscapes better in America."

"How so?"

"Swivels. You can turn the rocks around and see the other side."

Claudius laughed a little, but Barker did not smile. He was apparently
occupied in inventing a patent transformation landscape on wheels. In
reality, he was thinking out a _menu_ for dinner whereby he might feed
his friend without starving himself. For Mr. Barker was particular about
his meals, and accustomed to fare sumptuously every day, whereas he had
observed that the Doctor was fond of sausages and decayed cabbage. But
he knew such depraved tastes could not long withstand the blandishments
and caressing hypersensualism of Delmonico, if he ever got the Doctor so