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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Riches, my boy," he said, tapping him on the shoulder with the same quick, awakening Mephistophelean touch. The contact raised Lightbody from revery. He drew back, shocked at the ways through which his thoughts had wandered. "No, no, Jim," he said. "No, you mustn't, nothing like that not at such a time." "You're right," said De Gollyer, instantly masked in gravity. "You're quite right.
Quinny, as gaunt as a militant friar of the Middle Ages, aware of Steingall's protective reverie, spoke in desultory periods, addressing himself questions and supplying the answers, reserving his epigrams for a larger audience. At three o'clock De Gollyer entered from a heavy social performance, raising his eyebrows in salute as others raise their hats, and slightly dragging one leg behind.
He dropped the receiver, overturning the stand, and began again his caged pacing of the floor. Ten minutes later De Gollyer nervously slipped into the room. He was a quick, instinctive ferret of a man, one to whose eyes the hidden life of the city held no mysteries; who understood equally the shadows that glide on the street and the masks that pass in luxurious carriages.
"You adored her?" questioned De Gollyer in an indefinable tone. "I adored her!" replied Lightbody explosively. "Really now?" "I adored her. There's nothing left now nothing nothing." "Steady." Lightbody, at the window, made another effort, controlled himself and said, as a man might renounce an inheritance: "You're right, Jim but it's hard."
One by one, he flung them viciously over his head, reckoning not the crash with which they fell. Then with the same pas de ballet he descended on the hat-box and sent it from his boot crashing over the piano. Before De Gollyer could exclaim, he was at the closet, working havoc with the boxes of cigars. "Here, I say," said De Gollyer laughing, "look out, those are cigars!"
Then he looked at his hand and found he was still clutching a forgotten hair brush. With a cry at the grotesqueness of the thing, he flung it from him, watching it go skipping over the polished floor. The voice of De Gollyer called him. "Is that you, Jim?" he said, steadying himself. "Come come to me at once quick!" He could have said no more.
We go to Magazam, and we cut so long sweep, into the interior, take a turn, so, and back to Fez, so!" This speech, delivered with enthusiasm, made De Gollyer reflect. He looked at the somewhat revived Lightbody with thoughtful curiosity. "Well, well you may be right. You always are impressive, you know." "Right?
De Gollyer, putting his arm about him, recalled him with abrupt, military sternness. "Steady, steady again, dear old boy. Buck up now get hold of yourself." "Jim, it's awful!" "It's tough very tough!" "Out of a clear sky everything gone!" "Come, now, walk up and down a bit do you good." Lightbody obeyed, locking his arms behind his back, his eyes on the floor. "Everything smashed to bits!"
Then, touched by the fervor of his friend's admiration, Lightbody moved wearily away, saying dully, all in a breath: "Like a thunderclap, Jim." "I know, dear old boy," said De Gollyer, feeling sharply vulnerable in the eyes and throat. "It's terrible it's awful. All in a second! Everything turned upside down, everything smashed!" "You must go away," said De Gollyer anxiously.
This gave De Gollyer a certain hortatory moment of which he availed himself, seeking to reduce further the dramatic tension. "My dear old pal, as a matter of fact, all I say is, consider first and shoot after. In the first place, suppose you kill one or both and you are not yourself killed for you know, dear boy, the deuce is that sometimes does happen. What then? Justice is so languid nowadays.
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