Anthony the Absolute

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1914 Excerpt: ...street in a rickshaw. I stood squarely in the doorway of the hotel as he stepped down and paid off his coolie. He looked about him with quick, furtive glances as he crossed the walk. His eyes were tired, but beady and bright. There were spots of color on his cheeks. He had to pass so near to me that he could have touched me. I was staring right at him, expectantly. I wanted to meet his eye, to make him meet mine. But he cut me. It was the direct cut, such as only an Englishman can administer. He went on into the building. I hesitated but a second, then turned abruptly and followed him. He was at the desk, getting his mail. I came to a stop behind him, and fingered a magazine that was on a table there. It was my intention to make him speak. The manager came forward from an inner office, brushing his clerk aside. He said something--several sentences--in a low voice and with a hesitating, apologetic manner; then he handed Sir Robert a paper. The old man adjusted his monocle, lifted the paper, and read it. Then, slowly, he crumpled it in his unsteady fingers and dropped it on the counter. "You contemptible scoundrel!" he said, with one sharp glance at the manager. "But it is that I do not want to turn out the lady--to the street," the manager struggled to explain. But Sir Robert walked away--into the lounge, where he beckoned a waiter and deliberately or dered his tea. I stood there for a few moments, I think, quite motionless. Was it possible that--I stepped up to the desk, and asked for the manager. He came out to me. "I heard you speak of turning out a lady," I said, looking straight at him. "What did you mean by that?" He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and produced that identical crumpled ball of paper that S...