From a certain seat in the Princes Street Gardens it was possible to see the interior of the sitting-room in which the visitors remained after dinner.

From the time when this fact dawned upon him, his rooms in the evening knew him no more.

The gardens were locked at night, but that was a mere trifle.
He used to scramble over the railings like a cat, and then, planting himself upon the particular seat, he would keep a watch upon the hotel window until the occupants of the room retired to rest.

It might happen that his cousin remained invisible.

Then he would return to his rooms in a highly dissatisfied state, and sit up half the night protesting against fate and smoking strong black tobacco.