The brother, with a bow at the compliment, passed the card over.
MILORD SIR SMIHT
Wizard anglais
Specializing in late hours & By appointment
In a very elegant copperplate hand had been added: Hotel Grand Dominik.
“One does hear,” the brother said, “that the British nobility are of a high and eccentric nature.”
“So one does. Often,” Eszterhazy agreed. It might not have been high, but it would certainly have been eccentric for a member of the British aristocracy to put up at the Hotel Grand Dominik. He reflected, not for the first time, he knew, and not for the last, he expected, on the persistence of the Continental usage of milord, a rank not known either to Burke or Debrett. As for the name Smith, no one to the south or east of the English Channel has ever been able to spell it right, nor ever will.
He put down his money and prepared to depart; now that he knew where the stranger was to be found, it was no longer necessary to dog him about the streets.
He looked up to find a familiar, if not a welcome, expression on the face of the brother, who proceeded as expected: Might he take the very great liberty of asking the August Sir Doctor a question? He might. Ah, the August Sir Doctor was very kind. But still the question was not forthcoming. Eszterhazy decided to help him along; most such silences, following such questions, followed a certain pattern.
“If the question involves past indiscretions,” he said, gently, “I should represent that Doctor LeDuc, who has a daily advertisement in the popular newspapers— It is not that? Well. If the question involves a failure of regularity, I should recommend syrup of figs. What? Not that, either? Then you must come right out with it.”
But the man did not come right out with it. Instead, he began a sort of history of his firm and family. The first Brothers Swartbloi were Kummelman and Hugo. They were succeeded by Augsto and Frans. And Frans begat Kummelman II and Ignats.
“I am the present Kummelman Swartbloi,” he said, with an air of dignity at which it was impossible to laugh. “My brother Ignats – he is at present in the mill, salting the Turkey – has never married, and it does not seem that he ever will. My wife and I – she is the daughter and only child of my late Uncle Augsto – we have been wed for fifteen years now. But there have been no children. After all, no one lives forever. And how would it be possible, Sir Doctor, for there to be no Brothers Swartbloi in Bella? How could we leave the business over to strangers? And . . . and . . . there are so many medicines . . . One hardly knows where to begin. Could the August Sir Doctor recommend a particular medicine, known to be both safe and effective?”
The August Sir Doctor said very, very gently, “I should instead recommend my colleague, Professor Doctor Plotz, of the Faculty of Medicine. You may mention my name.”
The Hotel Grand Dominik has come down in the world since the days when it formed a stop on the Grand Tour. Long after having ceased to be fashionable among the gentry, it retained an affection on the part of the more prosperous of the commercial travelers. But it was at that time near the East Railroad Terminal. It is still, in fact, near the East Railroad Terminal, but since the completion of the Great Central Terminal, the shabby old East only serves suburban and industrial rail lines. Consequently, the commercial travelers who stop at the Grand Dominik either are very uninnovative or very old and in any event very unprosperous, or else they are merely unprosperous by reason of such factors as not selling anything worth buying. In fact, for some several years the Grand Dominik has stayed open solely because its famous half-ducat dinner, served between eleven and three, is deservedly popular among the junior partners and upper clerks of the many timber firms who still hold out in the adjacent neighborhood. The rooms are thus ancillary to the hotel’s main business. So the rooms are, in a word, cheap.
They are also – no management having been vigorous enough to undertake architectural changes – rather large. Milord Sir Smiht sat in a chair and at a table in the middle of his room, lit by the late afternoon sun. The rear of the room was dim. One caught glimpses of an enormous bed, hugely canopied and reached by a small stepladder, of an antique clothes press, a washbasin of marble and mahogany, a sofa whose worn upholstery still breathed out a very faint air of bygone fashion – and a very strong odor of present-day Rappee snuff – although it was actually rather unlikely that this last came from the sofa, and vastly likely that it came from the wizard anglais himself.
Who said, “I’ve seen you before.”
Eszterhazy said, “You left a card in the Court of the Golden Hart, and so—”
“—and so that was why you followed me halfway across Bella, because you knew I was going to leave my card in a snuff shop. Eh?”
The conversation was in French.
Eszterhazy smiled. “The milord is observant. Well. It is certainly true. My interest was aroused by the distinctive, I may say, distinguished appearance—”
The milord grunted, took out an enormous watch, glanced at it, shoved it across to where his visitor could see it. “My terms,” he said, “are two ducats for a half-hour. It has just now begun. You may ask as many questions as you please. You may do card tricks. You may spend the entire time looking at me. However, if you wish the employment of the odyllic force, then we should commence at once. Unless, of course, you are willing to pay another two ducats for any fraction of one-half-hour after the first.”
Eszterhazy wondered, of course, that anyone so seemingly businesslike should find himself a wanderer in a country so distant from his own – let alone a lodger at the Hotel Grand Dominik. He had learned, however, that the role which people see themselves as playing is not always the same role in which the world at large perceives them.
“To begin with,” he said, taking one of his own specially printed forms from his pocket, “I will ask Sir Smiht to be kind enough to remove his hat for the length of time which it will take me to complete my examination—”
The Englishman gazed at the forms with the greatest astonishment. “Good God!” he exclaimed. “I did once, long ago, at Brighton, to be sure, pay a phrenologist to fumble and peer about my pate – but I never thought that a phrenologist would pay me for the privilege!”
“Ah, Brighton,” Eszterhazy said. “The Royal Pavilions – what an excursion into the phantastique! Do you suppose that the First Gentleman of Europe might have been the first gentleman in Europe to have smoked hasheesh?”
Smiht snorted. Then his face, as he began to take his hat off, underwent a certain change. he completed the gesture, and then he said, “Brighton, eh. I suppose you must speak English, although I don’t suppose you are English?”
“As a boy I often spent my holidays with the family of my aunt, who lived in England.”
“Then let us cease to speak in French. Much better for you to struggle than for me. Furthermore – if you have been in England you ought to know damned well that the title Sir never precedes the family name without the interposition of the Christian name, although in such instances as that of Sir Moses Montefiore one would employ another terminology – a point which I cannot get across to the Continental mind, confound it! I consent to milord, because it is, I suppose, traditional, as one might say; and I submit to S-M-I-H-T because I realize how difficult the T-H is to speakers of any other language except Greek and I suppose Icelandic . . . speakers? spellers . . .?”