They entered, and went straight to the bureau, where the night clerk
was at his desk. I heard them ask for a person named Tiler, and
without consulting his books the clerk replied angrily:
"Tiler! Tiler! _Ma foi_, he is of no account, your Tiler. He has gone
off from the dinner-table and without paying his bill."
"That shall be made all right," replied Lord Blackadder loftily, as he
detailed his name and quality, before which the employe bowed low.
"And might I ask," his lordship went on, "whether a certain Mrs.
Blair, a lady with her child and its nurse, is staying in the hotel?"
"But certainly, milord. They have been here some days. Salon and suite
No. 17."
"At any rate, that's well, Falfani," said Lord Blackadder, with a sigh
of satisfaction. "But what of your friend Tiler? Thick-headed dolt,
unable to keep awake, I suppose."
At that moment a shabbily dressed person approached Falfani, touched
his hat, and offered him a note, saying:
"This must be for you, monsieur. I heard your name--"
"From Tiler, my lord, aha! This explains." And he passed the scrap of
paper on to his employer.
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