"
But an unhappy man might endorse that saying without a thought of
possible self-destruction. So, for Davenport's very silence on that way
of escape from his tasteless life, Larcher thought he might have taken
it.
He confided this thought to no less a person than Bagley, some weeks
after the return of that capitalist from Chicago. Two or three times,
meeting by chance, they had briefly discussed the disappearance, each
being more than willing to obtain whatever light the other might be able
to throw on the case. Finally Bagley, to whom Larcher had given his
address, had sent for him to call at the former's rooms on a certain
evening. These rooms proved to be a luxurious set of bachelor apartments
in one of the new tall buildings just off Broadway. Hard wood, stamped
leather, costly rugs, carved furniture, the richest upholstery, the art
of the old world and the inventiveness of the new, had made this a
handsome abode at any time, and a particularly inviting one on a cold
December night. Larcher, therefore, was not sorry he had responded to
the summons. He found Bagley sharing cigars and brandy with another man,
a squat, burly, middle-aged stranger, with a dyed mustache and the dress
and general appearance of a retired hotel-porter, cheap restaurant
proprietor, theatre doorkeeper, or some such useful but not interesting
member of society. This person, for a time, fulfilled the promise of
his looks, of being uninteresting. On being introduced to Larcher as Mr.
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