Читать книгу The Man Who Lost Himself онлайн

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He chose it, asked a policeman for directions, and made for Pall Mall.

Here another policeman pointed out to him the building he was in search of.

It stood on the opposite side of the way, a building of grey stone, vast and serious of feature, yet opulent and hinting of the best in all things relative to comfort.

It was historical. Disraeli had come down those steps, and the great Lord Salisbury had gone up them. Men, to enter this place, had to be born, not made, and even these selected ones had to put their names down at birth, if they wished for any chance of lunching there before they lost their teeth and hair.

It took twenty-one years for the elect to reach this place, and on the way they were likely to be slain by black balls.

Victor Jones just crossed the road and went up the steps.

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He had lunched at the Constitutional with a chance acquaintance picked up on his first week in London, so he knew something of the ways of English clubs, yet the vast hall of this place daunted him for a moment.