Affair in Araby | Page 5

boy answered with a shrug and a significant gesture toward the letter-rack on the wall. It was visibly, incontestably empty.
Rushford turned away in disgust.
"Those fellows at the office are assuming altogether too much responsibility," he muttered savagely, as he wandered on into the smoking-room. "I told them I didn't want to be bothered with little things, but I certainly expected to hear from them once in a while. If I don't look out, they'll reduce me to the status of a rubber stamp! I'll have to stir them up," and he gloomily extracted from the rack the newly-arrived, two-days-old London paper, brought by the little rickety train which struggled through at uncertain and infrequent intervals from Zunderburg to Weet-sur-Mer, lighted a fresh cigar, and sat down to a perusal of the news.
He proceeded in the most leisurely manner, for he knew that he had plenty of time. Indeed, the paper once finished, the remainder of the day would stretch before him an empty wilderness--a waste as monotonous and bare as the beach he had grown so weary of gazing at. So he gave careful and minute attention to every item. He was in the midst of a long and wholly uninteresting account of a charity bazaar, which the Princess of Wales had opened, and where the Duchess of Blank-Blank had made a tremendous hit and much money for a worthy cause, by selling her kisses for a guinea each, when his attention was attracted by a discreet shuffling of feet on the floor beside his chair. He looked up to see standing there the little fat Alsatian-German-French proprietor of the hotel.
"Why, hello, Pelletan," he said. "Want to speak to me?"
"Eef monsieur please," and Pelletan rubbed his chubby hands together in visible embarrassment.
"All right; sit down."
Monsieur Pelletan coughed deprecatingly and deposited his plump body on the extreme edge of a chair. It was easy to see that he was much depressed--his usually rosy cheeks hung flaccid, his mustachios drooped limply, his little black eyes were suffused and needed frequent wiping--a service performed by a hand that was none too steady.
"Eet iss a matter of pusiness, monsieur," he began, falteringly. "You haf perhaps perceive' t'at our custom hass fallen off."
Rushford glanced about the deserted smoking-room.
"No," he said; "I haven't seen any to fall off. I've been wondering how you managed to pay out."
"Ah, monsieur," cried Pelletan, wringing his hands, "t'at iss eet--I haf been paying out unt paying out until t'e las' franc iss gone. I wass at no time reech, monsieur; at t'is moment I am in ruins!"
And, indeed, he looked the part.
"You mean you'll have to shut up shop?" inquired Rushford.
"Eet preaks my heart to say eet, monsieur; but I fear eet will come to t'at, unless--"
"Unless what?" asked Rushford, eyeing him as he hesitated.
"Unless I shall pe able to interes' monsieur--"
Rushford grunted and stared out of the window at the dunes, puffing his cigar meditatively. He thought of the comfortable bed, of the admirable cuisine--he would hate to give them up. It would mean going to the other hotel, and the mere idea made him shiver. Anything but that!
His host watched him in an agony of apprehension.
"What does it cost a day to run this shebang?" asked the American at last.
Monsieur Pelletan, with feverish haste, produced a paper from his pocket.
"I haf anticipate' monsieur's question; t'is statement will show heem."
Rushford took it and glanced at the total.
"Hmmmm. Four hundred and eighty francs--say a hundred dollars."
"T'at, monsieur," explained Pelletan, "iss based upon our present custom. As pusiness increase', so do t'e expense increase."
"Of course."
"But not in t'e same ratio as t'e receipts. A full house wins so much as six hundret francs t'e tay."
"Yes," assented Rushford, "a full house is a mighty nice thing. But now you seem to be holding only a bob-tail."
"A pop-tail?"
"No matter--go ahead with the story. You say it costs you a hundred dollars a day to keep your doors open. What's the heaviest item?"
"T'e greates' item at present iss t'e chef. He iss a fery goot one--I haf feared to let heem go."
"That was right. You'd better not let him go if you want to keep us here. How many rooms have you?"
Pelletan produced a second slip of paper.
"For t'at, also, I wass prepared, my tear Monsieur Rushford," he said. "T'e tariff of charges iss also t'ere."
Rushford looked it over with some care. Then he stared out across the sands again, the corners of his mouth twitching. Evidently the proposal appealed to his sense of humour.
"See here, Pelletan," he said, abruptly, turning back, "is there a hoodoo on the house, or what's the matter?"
"A--I peg monsieur's pardon," stammered Pelletan.
"How does it happen that the hotel over there is full and this one's empty?"
"Eet iss t'is way, monsieur," explained the Frenchman, eagerly. "For many year, long