twenty-fifth. If we reach Hoboken at eight o'clock the evening of the
first of February, I can appear for my act in perfect serenity at nine
o'clock; but that frail blossom of yours can't. She will certainly need
a few days to recover from the hardships of this trip."

The three men entered the smoking-room. Frederick had already recognised
the voice as belonging to the man without arms, who, he learned later,
from Hahlström, was a world-renowned celebrity. For more than ten years
the bill-boards of every great city in the world had been displaying
simply his name, Arthur Stoss, which alone sufficed to draw throngs to
the theatres. His special art consisted in doing with his feet whatever
other people do with their hands.

The first sight of him, of course, was repellent; but in the smoking-room
on deck Frederick had got over his first repulsion and had become
interested in his personality. Yet the situation in which he now beheld
him was so novel, so remarkable, almost to the point of improbability,
that he had difficulty in concealing his amazement. Arthur Stoss was
eating lunch. Since this room was so little used and since a man forced
to handle his knife and fork with his feet could not be permitted to eat
in the public dining-room, they served Arthur Stoss with his meals here.
To the three onlookers it had the value of an artistic performance to see
how the actor managed to manipulate his instruments with his clean, bare
toes--and that despite the pitching of the vessel--meanwhile, in the best
of humour, uttering the wittiest remarks as bite after bite disappeared
down his throat. He began to banter Hahlström and Achleitner, sometimes
in rather caustic fashion, while exchanging glances with Frederick, as
if he thought vastly more of him than of the other two men, who soon
withdrew from his attacks to go on deck.