Illogically,
I was feeling that to bully him was sheer brutality. Besides this, my
dinner was not being improved by the delay.
"Look here," I said amiably, "I can't see that you've taken anything.
Speak up lively now; I'll give you just one chance. If you care to tell
me how you got through a locked door and what you were after, I'll let
you go. I'm off to the firing line, and it may bring me luck!"
Hope glimmered in his eyes. In broken English, with a childlike
ingenuousness of demeanor, he informed me that he was a first-class
locksmith--first-glass he called it--who had been sent by the management
to open a reluctant trunk. He had entered my room, I was led to infer,
by a mistake.
"I go now, _ja_?" he concluded, as postscript to the likely tale.
"The devil you do! Do you take me for an utter fool?" I asked, excusably
nettled, and stepping to the telephone, I took the receiver from its
hook.
"Give me the manager's office, please," I requested, watching my
visitor. "Is this the manager? This is Mr. Bayne speaking, Room four
hundred and three.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25