Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter III
Butsuddenlyhewasawareofacommotion,issuingfromthedirectionofAnnixter’sroom,andthevoiceofAnnixterhimselfupraisedinexpostulationandexasperation.ThedooroftheroomtowhichAnnixterhadbeenassignedopenedwithaviolentwrenchandanangryvoiceexclaimedtoanybodywhowouldlisten:
“Oh,yes,funny,isn’tit?Inaway,it’sfunny,andthen,again,inawayitisn’t.”
Thedoorbangedtosothatallthewindowsofthehouserattledintheirframes.
Harranhurriedoutintothedining-roomandtheremetPresleyandhisfather,whohadbeenarousedaswellbyAnnixter’sclamour.Ostermanwasthere,too,hisbaldheadgleaminglikeabulbofivoryinthelightofthelampthatMagnuscarried.
“What’sallup?”demandedOsterman.“WhateverintheworldisthematterwithBuck?”
ConfusedandterriblesoundscamefrombehindthedoorofAnnixter’sroom.Aprolongedmonologueofgrievance,brokenbyexplosionsofwrathandthevaguenoiseofsomeoneinafurioushurry.AllatonceandbeforeHarranhadachancetoknockonthedoor,Annixterflungitopen.Hisfacewasblazingwithanger,hisoutthrustlipmoreprominentthanever,hiswiry,yellowhairindisarray,thetuftonthecrownstickingstraightintotheairliketheupraisedhacklesofanangryhound.Evidentlyhehadbeendressinghimselfwiththemostheadlongrapidity;hehadnotyetputonhiscoatandvest,butcarriedthemoverhisarm,whilewithhisdisengagedhandhekepthitchinghissuspendersoverhisshoulderswithapersistentandhypnoticgesture.
