The double thirteen

“My dear Fleury, if life held nothing except this roast chicken, life would be worth living.”The head waiter of the Monopole Hotel bowed.“I am glad that m’sieur is satisfied. That signifies much; is it not so? But the roast chicken”—a smile flickered on his lips—“it is not so simple as it looks.”But the young man whom he served withered that enthusiasm with a glance which declared that he had extended his interest in the matter to its utmost limits.The head waiter retired, a little crestfallen, perhaps, but still well pleased with the compliment he had received. Was not the Hon. Robert Barling the most distinguished of all those whom it is worth while serving with the very best?