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Updated: May 8, 2025
MM. Doorman and Von Graffen earnestly pointed out the impropriety of inserting the article; but M. Forshmann referred to his order, and added that the compliance of the Senate on this point was the only means of avoiding great mischief.
As I have said, at six the telephone girl at the switchboard and the doorman, for some reason which I could never understand, were replaced by an old negro who served as both, and who was the most garrulous, indiscreet individual I have ever seen.
Thus they drove over the Grand Boulevards and recrossed the Harlem River and presently drew up in front of a great apartment house in Park Avenue. The man opened the door. "Walk right in, sir, as though you belong here. The doorman and the elevatorman are prepared." They might be prepared, but Larry certainly was not; and he shot up the elevator to the top floor with mounting bewilderment.
We went along together; the woman said that her name was Meier; but her first name was Mieze. She lived with relatives; they employed a doorman. In addition, she sang in a chorus. The woman was neither beautiful nor young, but she seemed approachable. I had no reason to be shy. In front of the house in which the woman lived we stopped. I suggested that we look for a hotel.
In the lower hall of the building in which I had quarters there were stationed until six at night a telephone operator and a doorman.
All three of them knew at once that the man who had spoken was the stranger who had acted so queerly in the Cresville freight office. If they had any doubts of it they were dispelled a moment later when the doorman called out: "All aboard for the western express!"
As they did this a man came out to meet Dick and Sam. "New students?" he asked shortly. "Yes," replied Dick. "Please step this way." The doorman led them along a broad hall and into a large office. Here they signed a register and were then introduced by an under teacher to Dr. Wallington, a gray-haired man of sixty, tall and thin, with a scholarly aspect.
Flint, meanwhile, had entered the great mansion, its bronze doors ravished from the Palazzo Guelfo at Venice having swung inward to admit him, with noiseless majesty. Ignoring the doorman, he addressed himself to Edwards, who stood in the spacious, mahogany-panelled hall, washing both hands with imaginary soap. "Waldron up, yet, Edwards?" "No, sir. He er I have been unable " "The devil!
Thirty-two years have passed since I slept in a police station lodging house, a lonely lad, and was robbed, beaten, and thrown out for protesting; and when the vagrant cur that had joined its homelessness to mine, and had sat all night at the door waiting for me to come out, it had been clubbed away the night before, snarled and showed its teeth at the doorman, raging and impotent I saw it beaten to death on the step.
"Keep clear, bo!" "Damnation!" exclaimed Ronicky. "What's the idea? I want Harry, I tell you." "Harry ain't here." "Just hand me that piece of paper over there, and I'll write out the message," said Ronicky, pointing to the little table just beyond the doorman. The latter turned with a growl, and the moment he was halfway around Ronicky Doone sprang in.
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