Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter VIII
Hisheartbeating,hisbreathcomingshort,heenteredthebuilding,andinafewmomentsfoundhimselfseatedinanante-room,hiseyesfixedwithhypnoticintensityuponthefrostedpaneofanadjoiningdoor,whereoningoldletterswasinscribedtheword,“PRESIDENT.”
Intheend,PresleyhadbeensurprisedtofindthatShelgrimwasstillin.Itwasalreadyverylate,aftersixo’clock,andtheotherofficesinthebuildingwereintheactofclosing.Manyofthemwerealreadydeserted.Ateveryinstant,throughtheopendooroftheante-room,hecaughtaglimpseofclerks,officeboys,book-keepers,andotheremployeeshurryingtowardsthestairsandelevators,quittingbusinessfortheday.Shelgrim,itseemed,stillremainedathisdesk,knowingnofatigue,requiringnoleisure.
“WhattimedoesMr.Shelgrimusuallygohome?”inquiredPresleyoftheyoungmanwhosatrulingformsatthetableintheante-room.
“Anywherebetweenhalf-pastsixandseven,”theotheranswered,adding,“Veryoftenhecomesbackintheevening.”
Andthemanwasseventyyearsold.Presleycouldnotrepressamurmurofastonishment.Notonlymentally,then,wasthePresidentoftheP.andS.W.agiant.Seventyyearsofageandstillathispost,holdingtherewiththeenergy,withaconcentrationofpurposethatwouldhavewreckedthehealthandimpairedthemindofmanymenintheprimeoftheirmanhood.
ButthenextinstantPresleysethisteeth.
“Itisanogre’svitality,”hesaidtohimself.“Justsoistheman-eatingtigerstrong.Themanshouldhaveenergywhohassuckedthelife-bloodfromanentirePeople.
