Спрут: Калифорнийская история

Chapter VIII

           

           Alittleelectricbellonthewallnearathandtrilledawarning.Theyoungmanwhowasrulingformslaiddownhispen,andopeningthedoorofthePresident’soffice,thrustinhishead,thenafterawordexchangedwiththeunseenoccupantoftheroom,heswungthedoorwide,sayingtoPresley:

           “Mr.Shelgrimwillseeyou,sir.”

           Presleyenteredalarge,welllighted,butsingularlybarrenoffice.Awell-worncarpetwasonthefloor,twosteelengravingshungagainstthewall,anextrachairortwostoodnearalarge,plain,litteredtable.Thatwasabsolutelyall,unlessheexceptedthecornerwash-stand,onwhichwassetapitcheroficewater,coveredwithaclean,stiffnapkin.Aman,evidentlysomesortofmanager’sassistant,stoodattheendofthetable,leaningonthebackofoneofthechairs.Shelgrimhimselfsatatthetable.

           Hewaslarge,almosttomassiveness.Aniron-greybeardandamustachethatcompletelyhidthemouthcoveredthelowerpartofhisface.Hiseyeswereapaleblue,andalittlewatery;hereandthereuponhisfaceweremothspots.Buttheenormousbreadthoftheshoulderswaswhat,atfirst,mostvividlyforceditselfuponPresley’snotice.Neverhadheseenabroaderman;theneck,however,seemedinamannertohavesettledintotheshoulders,andfurthermoretheywerehumpedandrounded,asiftobeargreatresponsibilities,andgreatabuse.

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