|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 39
Ashe, as he sat and watched them, was filled with conflicting
emotions. One-half of him, thrilled with the glamour of
adventure, was chafing at the delay, and resentful of these poor
creatures as of so many obstacles to the beginning of all the
brisk and exciting things that lay behind the mysterious brevity
of the advertisement; the other, pitifully alive to the tragedy
of the occasion, was grateful for the delay.
On the whole, he was glad to feel that if one of these derelicts
did not secure the "good pay for the right man," it would not be
his fault. He had been the last to arrive, and he would be the
last to pass through that door, which was the gateway of
adventure--the door with Mr. Boole inscribed on its ground glass,
behind which sat the author of the mysterious request for
assistance, interviewing applicants. It would be through their
own shortcomings--not because of his superior attractions--if
they failed to please that unseen arbiter.
That they were so failing was plain. Scarcely had one scarred
victim of London's unkindness passed through before the bell
would ring; the office boy, who, in the intervals of frowning
sternly on the throng, as much as to say that he would stand no
nonsense, would cry, "Next!" and another dull-eyed wreck would
drift through, to be followed a moment later by yet another. The
one fact at present ascertainable concerning the unknown searcher
for reckless young men of good appearance was that he appeared to
be possessed of considerable decision of character, a man who did
not take long to make up his mind. He was rejecting applicants
now at the rate of two a minute.
Expeditious though he was, he kept Ashe waiting for a
considerable time. It was not until the hands of the fat clock
over the door pointed to twenty minutes past eleven that the
office boy's "Next!" found him the only survivor. He gave his
clothes a hasty smack with the palm of his hand and his hair a
fleeting dab to accentuate his good appearance, and turned the
handle of the door of fate.
The room assigned by the firm to their Mr. Boole for his personal
use was a small and dingy compartment, redolent of that
atmosphere of desolation which lawyers alone know how to achieve.
It gave the impression of not having been swept since the
foundation of the firm, in the year 1786. There was one small
window, covered with grime. It was one of those windows you see
only in lawyers' offices. Possibly some reckless Mainprice or
harebrained Boole had opened it in a fit of mad excitement
induced by the news of the Battle of Waterloo, in 1815, and had
been instantly expelled from the firm. Since then, no one had
dared to tamper with it.
Gazing through this window--or, rather, gazing at it, for X-rays
could hardly have succeeded in actually penetrating the alluvial
deposits on the glass--was a little man. As Ashe entered, he
turned and looked at him as though he hurt him rather badly in
some tender spot.
Ashe was obliged to own to himself that he felt a little nervous.
It is not every day that a young man of good appearance, who has
led a quiet life, meets face to face one who is prepared to pay
him well for doing something delicate and dangerous. To Ashe the
sensation was entirely novel. The most delicate and dangerous act
he had performed to date had been the daily mastication of Mrs.
Bell's breakfast--included in the rent. Yes, he had to admit
it--he was nervous: and the fact that he was nervous made him hot
and uncomfortable.
To judge him by his appearance, the man at the window was also
hot and uncomfortable. He was a little, truculent-looking man,
and his face at present was red with a flush that sat unnaturally
on a normally lead-colored face. His eyes looked out from under
thick gray eyebrows with an almost tortured expression. This was
partly owing to the strain of interviewing Ashe's preposterous
predecessors, but principally to the fact that the little man had
suddenly been seized with acute indigestion, a malady to which he
was peculiarly subject.
He removed from his mouth the black cigar he was smoking,
inserted a digestive tabloid, and replaced the cigar. Then he
concentrated his attention on Ashe. As he did so the hostile
expression of his face became modified. He looked surprised
and--grudgingly--pleased.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|