Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Trust; Or, Never Say Die онлайн

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They moved toward the dining-room at the rear of the gambling-apartment. This room Frank found to be in keeping with the rest of the place. The paneling was handsomely carved, and the napery on the table was the best that could be procured. Beneath the softened lights, cut glass gleamed like diamonds. Overhead it was tastefully decorated in bronzed leather.

Herrick led the way, and they were shown to a table by polite waiters, who placed the chairs for them.

Frank looked at the menu in surprise, for he saw quickly that it compared in its range with the very best places of the city. There were all sorts of salads, cold salmon and cold roast meats. A bird, a bit of game, or a cutlet might be ordered.

The wine-list seemed to include everything choice and extravagant.

“Order what you like, gentlemen,” said Herrick. “Everything is free here to Canfield’s customers.”

“Do you mean to say there is no charge for this?” asked Merry, not a little surprised.

“No charge at all,” assured the man with the dark mustache.