United States or Egypt ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Jeckley was lighting his cigar, and so did not observe my start of surprise. Have I said that Jeckley was a newspaper man? One of the new school of journalism, a creature who would stick at nothing in the manufacture of a sensation. The Scare-Head is his god, and he holds nothing else sacred in heaven and earth.
Impossible to conjecture how it had come there, and my own part in the transaction had been purely involuntary; the muscles of the palm had closed unconsciously upon the object presented to it, just as does a baby's. "Mr. Esper Indiman and who the deuce may he be?" The club dining-room was full, but Jeckley hailed me and offered me a seat at his table.
Whatever the cause, I suddenly became conscious that I was passing into a state of high mental tension; I wanted to scream, to beat impotently upon the air; Jeckley would have put it that I was within an ace of flying off the handle. A deafening clash of clanging metal smote my ears. It should have been the finishing touch, and it was, but not after the fashion that might have been expected.
There were a lot of people around, and I haven't the most distant notion of the guilty party." "What does it mean?" Jeckley shook his head. "What will you do about it?" "I will make the call, of course." "Of course!" "There maybe a story there who knows. Besides, it's directly on my way to the Globe, and the curtain is not until eight-thirty.
It was a relief, of course, to be spared the infliction of Mr. Jeckley's society, but I could not but admit that the situation was developing some peculiarities. Eliminating the doubtful personality of Mr. Ambrose Johnson Snell, who was this Mr. Esper Indiman, whose identity had been so freely admitted to me and so explicitly denied to Jeckley?
Indiman's lordly pleasure no longer. I rose to go; the electric bell sounded. I could hear Jeckley's high-pitched voice distinctly; he seemed to be put out about something; he spoke impatiently, even angrily. "But this is 4020 Madison Avenue, isn't it? Mr. Indiman I was asked to call Mr. Jeckley, of the Planet." "Must be some mistake, sir," came the answer. "This is No. 4020, but there's no Mr.
He would sacrifice but perhaps I'm unjust to Jeckley; maybe it's only his bounce and flourish that I detest. Furthermore, I'm a little afraid of him; I don't want to be written up. "Esper Indiman," I read aloud. "Don't know him." "Ever heard the name?" asked Jeckley. I temporized. "It's unfamiliar, certainly." Jeckley looked gloomy. "Nobody seems to know him," he said.
The inference was obvious that Jeckley had failed to pass the first inspection test, and so had been turned down without further ceremony. This reflection rather amused me; I forgot about the incivility to which I was being subjected in the long wait, and began to be curious about the game itself. What next?
Inkerman " "Indiman, not Inkerman Mr. Esper Indiman. Look at the card." "Never heard the name, sir." "What! Well, then, who does live here?" "Mr. Snell, sir. Mr. Ambrose Johnson Snell. But he's at dinner, and I couldn't disturb him." "Humph!" I fancy that Jeckley swore under his breath as he turned to go. Then the outer door was closed upon him.
I loathe Jeckley, and so I explained politely that I was waiting for a friend, and should not dine until later. "Well, then, have a cocktail while I am finishing my coffee," persisted the beast, and I was obliged to comply. "I had to feed rather earlier than usual," explained Jeckley. "Yes," I said, not caring in the least about Mr. Jeckley's hours for meals.
Word Of The Day