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Chapter 21 — Mr. Bedford at Littlestone

           “Isay,”saidthevoiceofthelittlemanbehind.“Isay,youknow.”

           Iwheeledabout,andthereweretwentyorthirtypeople,asortofirregularinvestmentofpeople,allbombardingmewithdumbinterrogation,withinfinitedoubtandsuspicion.Ifeltthecompulsionoftheireyesintolerably.Igroanedaloud.

           “Ican’t,”Ishouted.“ItellyouIcan’t!I’mnotequaltoit!Youmustpuzzleand—andbedamnedtoyou!”

           Igesticulatedconvulsively.HerecededastepasthoughIhadthreatenedhim.Imadeaboltthroughthemintothehotel.Ichargedbackintothecoffee-room,rangthebellfuriously.Igrippedthewaiterasheentered.“D’yehear?”Ishouted.“Gethelpandcarrythesebarsuptomyroomrightaway.”

           Hefailedtounderstandme,andIshoutedandravedathim.Ascared-lookinglittleoldmaninagreenapronappeared,andfurthertwooftheyoungmeninflannels.Imadeadashatthemandcommandeeredtheirservices.AssoonasthegoldwasinmyroomIfeltfreetoquarrel.“Nowgetout,”Ishouted;“allofyougetoutifyoudon’twanttoseeamangomadbeforeyoureyes!”AndIhelpedthewaiterbytheshoulderashehesitatedinthedoorway.Andthen,assoonasIhadthedoorlockedonthemall,Itoreoffthelittleman’sclothesagain,shiedthemrightandleft,andgotintobedforthwith.AndthereIlayswearingandpantingandcoolingforaverylongtime.

           AtlastIwascalmenoughtogetoutofbedandringuptheround-eyedwaiterforaflannelnightshirt,asodaandwhisky,andsomegoodcigars.

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