" He pointed to an empty chair beside a man in evening dress, who
was holding a conversation with a haughty looking matron. "You tell Mr.
Holymead Mr. Kemp wants to see him," he said to the manager.
"What name did you say?" asked the manager in a tone which seemed to
express astonishment that the lower orders had names.
"Mr. Kemp. You tell him Mr. Kemp wants to see him on important business."
He walked towards the vacant chair and seated himself on it. He dug his
toes into the velvet pile carpet with the air of a man who was trying to
take anchor. Fortunately the man on the adjoining chair, and the haughty
matron, were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not notice
that the air in their immediate vicinity was being polluted by the
presence of a man in shabby clothes and heavy boots.
The manager despatched the porter in search of Mr. Holymead and then went
in pursuit of Mr. Kemp.
"Will you come this way, if you please, Mr. Kemp?" he said, with a low
bow.
He saw that Mr. Kemp was following him and led the way into an
unfrequented corner of the smoking room, where, with the information
that Mr. Holymead would come to him in a few moments, he asked Mr.
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