swell rounders don't lug about any ready money. Guess he'll dump me out
when he gets to some joint where he can get cash on his mug. Anyhow,
it's a cinch that I've got that open-air bed convention beat to a
finish."

Submerged in his greatcoat, the mysterious automobilist seemed, himself,
to marvel at the surprises of life. "Wonderful! amazing! strange!" he
repeated to himself constantly.

When the car had well entered the crosstown Seventies it swung eastward
a half block and stopped before a row of high-stooped, brownstone-front
houses.

"Be kind enough to enter my house with me," said the sealskinned
gentleman when they had alighted. "He's going to dig up, sure,"
reflected Thomas, following him inside.

There was a dim light in the hall. His host conducted him through a door
to the left, closing it after him and leaving them in absolute darkness.
Suddenly a luminous globe, strangely decorated, shone faintly in
the centre of an immense room that seemed to Thomas more splendidly
appointed than any he had ever seen on the stage or read of in fairy
tales.

The walls were hidden by gorgeous red hangings embroidered with
fantastic gold figures. At the rear end of the room were draped
portieres of dull gold spangled with silver crescents and stars. The
furniture was of the costliest and rarest styles. The ex-coachman's feet
sank into rugs as fleecy and deep as snowdrifts. There were three or
four oddly shaped stands or tables covered with black velvet drapery.