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XXIII.
The ostler (being a fool) rushed violently down the road vociferating
after them. Then he returned panting to the Vicuna Hotel, and finding
a group of men outside the entrance, who wanted to know what was UP,
stopped to give them the cream of the adventure. That gave the fugitives
five minutes. Then pushing breathlessly into the bar, he had to make it
clear to the barmaid what the matter was, and the 'gov'nor' being out,
they spent some more precious time wondering 'what--EVER' was to be
done! in which the two customers returning from outside joined
with animation. There were also moral remarks and other irrelevant
contributions. There were conflicting ideas of telling the police and
pursuing the flying couple on a horse. That made ten minutes. Then
Stephen, the waiter, who had shown Hoopdriver up, came down and lit
wonderful lights and started quite a fresh discussion by the simple
question "WHICH?" That turned ten minutes into a quarter of an hour.
And in the midst of this discussion, making a sudden and awestricken
silence, appeared Bechamel in the hall beyond the bar, walked with a
resolute air to the foot of the staircase, and passed out of sight.
You conceive the backward pitch of that exceptionally shaped cranium?
Incredulous eyes stared into one another's in the bar, as his paces,
muffled by the stair carpet, went up to the landing, turned, reached the
passage and walked into the dining-room overhead.
"It wasn't that one at all, miss," said the ostler, "I'd SWEAR"
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