At that time no
customers ever troubled the repose of the establishment. Wandering about
his premises in profound solitude, Schomberg recoiled at the door of the
billiard-room, as if he had seen a snake in his path. All alone with the
billiards, the bare little tables, and a lot of untenanted chairs, Mr.
Secretary Ricardo sat near the wall, performing with lightning rapidity
something that looked like tricks with his own personal pack of cards,
which he always carried about in his pocket. Schomberg would have backed
out quietly if Ricardo had not turned his head. Having been seen, the
hotel-keeper elected to walk in as the lesser risk of the two. The
consciousness of his inwardly abject attitude towards these men caused
him always to throw his chest out and assume a severe expression.
Ricardo watched his approach, clasping the pack of cards in both hands.
"You want something, perhaps?" suggested Schomberg in his
lieutenant-of-the-Reserve voice.
Ricardo shook his head in silence and looked expectant. With him
Schomberg exchanged at least twenty words every day. He was infinitely
more communicative than his patron. At times he looked very much like
an ordinary human being of his class; and he seemed to be in an amiable
mood at that moment. Suddenly spreading some ten cards face downward in
the form of a fan, he thrust them towards Schomberg.
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