the fortunes of oliver horn-第15节

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〃Who　made　that　noise？〃　asked　Mr。　Stiger；　when　the　amen　was　reached。

〃Me；　sir。〃

〃What　for？〃

〃To　get　cool。　It　makes　creeps　go　down　my　back。〃　From　that　day　the　old　cashier　had　never　called　Oliver　anything　but　〃Creeps。〃

Oliver；　in　a　spirit　of　playful　revenge；　made　caricatures　　of　his　prosecutor　in　these　later　years；　enlarging　　his　nose；　puffing　out　his　cheeks；　and　dressing　him　up　in　impossible　clothes。　These　sketches　he　would　mail　to　the　cashier　as　anonymous　communications；　always　stopping　at　the　bank　the　next　day　to　see　how　Stiger　enjoyed　them。　He　generally　found　them　tacked　up　over　the　cashier's　desk。　Some　of　them　were　still　there　when　Stiger　died。

Carried　away　by　the　warm　greetings　of　the　old　cashier；　and　the　hearty；　whole…souled　spirit　of　　companionship　inherent　in　the　mana　spirit　always　dear　to　Oliverhe　not　only　stayed　to　make　another　caricature　　of　the　old　fellow；　over　which　the　original　laughed　until　the　tears　ran　down　his　fat　cheeks；　but　until　all　the　old　sketches　were　once　more　taken　from　the　drawer　or　examined　on　the　wall　and　laughed　at　over　again；　Stiger　praising　him　for　his　cleverness　and　predicting　all　kinds　of　honors　and　distinctions　for　him　when　his　talents　become　recognized。　It　was　just　the　atmosphere　of　general　approval　in　which　our　young　hero　loved　to　bask；　and　again　the　hours　slipped　away　and　three　o'clock　came　and　went　and　his　mother's　message　was　still　undelivered。　Nor　had　he　been　at　Judge　Ellicott's　office。　This　fact　was　not　impressed　upon　him　by　the　moon…faced　clock　that　hung　over　the　cashier's　desktime　made　no　difference　　to　Oliverbut　by　the　cashier　himself；　who　began　　stuffing　the　big　books　into　a　great　safe　built　into　the　wall；　preparatory　to　locking　it　with　a　key　that　could　have　opened　the　gate　of　a　walled　town；　and　which　the　old　gentleman　took　home　with　him　every　night　and　hung　on　a　nail　by　his　bed。

Thus　it　came　to　pass　that　another　half　hour　had　struck　before　Oliver　mounted　the　steps　of　the　Chesapeake　　Club　in　search　of　the　elusive　Colonel。

The　fat；　mahogany…colored　porter；　who　sat　all　day　in　the　doorway　of　the　club；　dozing　in　his　lobster…　shell　bath…chair；　answered　his　next　inquiry。　This　ancient　relic；　who　always　boasted　that　no　gentleman　member　of　the　club；　dead　or　alive；　could　pass　him　without　being　recognized；　listened　to　Oliver's　request　with　a　certain　lifeless　aira　manner　always　shown　to　strangersand　shuffled　away　to　the　reading…room　to　find　the　Colonel。

The　occupant　of　this　bath…chair　was　not　only　one　of　the　characters　of　the　club　but　one　of　the　characters　of　the　town。　He　was　a　squat；　broken…kneed　old　darky；　with　white　eyebrows　arching　over　big　brass　spectacles；　a　flat　nose；　and　two　keen；　restless　monkey　eyes。　His　hands；　like　those　of　many　negroes　of　his　age；　were　long　and　shrivelled；　the　palms　wrinkled　as　the　inside；　of　a　turkey's　foot　and　of　the　same　color　and　texture。　His　two　feet；　always　in　evidence；　rested　on　their　heels；　and　were　generally　encased　in　carpet　slippersshoes　being　out　of　the　question　owing　to　his　life…long　habit　of　storing　inside　his　own　person　the　drainings　of　the　decanters；　an　idiosyncrasy　which　produced　a　form　of　gout　that　only　carpet　slippers　could　alleviate。　In　his　earlier　life　he　had　carried　General　　Washington　around　in　his　arms；　had　waited　on　Henry　Clay；　and　had　been　body…servant　to　Lafayette；　besides　holding　the　horses　of　half　the　generals　of　the　War　of　1812at；　least；　he　said　so；　and　no　man　of　his　color　dared　contradict　him。

The　years　of　service　of　this　guardian　of　the　front　door　dated　back　to　the　time　when　the　Chippendale　furniture　of　Colonel　Ralph　Coston；　together　with　many　of　the　portraits　covering　the　walls；　and　the　silver　chafing…dishes　lining　the　sideboard；　had　come　into　the　possession　of　the　club　through　that　gentleman's　last　will　and　testament。　Coston　was　the　most　beloved　of　all　the　epicures　of　his　time；　and　his　famous　terrapin…　stewone　of　the　marvellous；　delicacies　of　the　period　had　been　cooked　in　these　same　chafing…dishes。　The　mahogany…colored　Cerberus　had　been　Coston's　slave　as　well　as　butler；　and　still　belonged　to　the　estate。　It　was　eminently　proper；　therefore；　that　he　should　still　maintain　his　position　at　the　club　as　long　as　his　feet　held　out。

While　he　was　gone　in　search　of　the　Colonel；　Oliver　occupied　himself　for　a　moment　in　examining　one　of　the　old　English　sporting　prints　that　ornamented　the　side…walls　of　the　bare；　uncarpeted；　dismal　hall。　It　was　the　second　time　that　he　had　entered　these　sacred　doors　few　men　of　his　own　age　had　ever　done　as　much。　He　had　stopped　there　once　before　in　search　of　his　father；　when　his　mother　had　been　taken　suddenly　ill。　He　recalled　again　the　curious　spiral　staircase　at　the　end　of　the　hall　where　his　father　had　met　him　and　which　had　impressed　him　so　at　the　time。　He　could　see；　too；　the　open　closet　out　of　which　Mr。　Horn　had　taken　his　overcoat；　and　which　was　now　half…filled　with　hats　and　coats。

From　the　desolate；　uninviting　hall；　Oliver　passed　into　the　large　meeting…room　of　the　club　fronting　the　street；　now　filled　with　members；　many　of　whom　had　dropped　in　for　half　an　hour　on　their　way　back　to　their　offices。　Of　these　some　of　the　older　and　more　sedate　men；　like　Judge　Bowman　and　Mr。　Pancoast；　were　playing　chess；　others　were　seated　about　the　small　tables；　reading；　sipping　toddies；　or　chatting　　together。　A　few　of　the　younger　bloods；　men　of　forty　or　thereabouts；　were　standing　by　the　uncurtained　windows　watching　the　belles　of　the　town　in　their　flounced　dresses　and　wide　leghorn　hats；　out　for　an　afternoon　visit　or　promenade。　Among　these　men　Oliver　recognized　Howard　Thom；　son　of　the　Chief…　Justice；　poor　as　a　church　mouse　and　fifty　years　of　age　if　a　day。　Oliver　was　not　surprised　to　find　Thom　craning　his　neck　at　the　window。　He　remembered　the　story　they　told　of　this　perennial　beauof　how　he　had　been　in　love　with　every　woman　in　and　around　Kennedy　Square；　from　Miss　Clendenning　down　to　the　latest　debutante；　and　of　how　he　would　tell　you　over　his　first　toddy　that　he　had　sown　his　wild　oats　and　was　about　to　settle　down　for　life；　and　over　his　lastthe　sixth；　or　seventh；　or　eighththat　the　most　adorable　woman　in　town；　after　a　life　devoted　to　her　service；　had　thrown　him　over；　and　that　henceforth　all　that　was　left　to　him　was　a　load　of　buckshot　and　six　feet　of　earth。

Oliver　bowed　to　those　of　the　members　he　knew；　and　wheeling　one　of　the　clumsy　mahogany　chairs　into　position；　sat　down　to　await　the　arrival　of　Colonel　Clayton。

Meanwhile　his　eyes　wandered　over　the　desolate　room　with　its　leather…covered　chairs　and　sofas　and　big　marble　mantel　bare　of　every　ornament　but　another　　moon…faced　clocka　duplicate　of　the　one　at　the　bankand　two　bronze　candelabra　flanking　each　end；　and　then　on　the　portraits　of　the　dead　and　gone　members　which　relieved　the　sombre　wallsone　in　a　plum…colored　coat　with　hair　tied　in　a　queue　being　no　other　than　his　own　ancestor。　He　wondered　to　himself　where　lay　the　charm　and　power　to　attract　in　a　place　so　colorless；　and　he　thought；　as　was　his　habit　with　all　interiors；　how　different　he　would　want　it　to　be　if　he　ever　became　a　member。　His　fresh　young　nature　revolted　at　the　dinginess　and　bareness　of　the　surroundings。　He　couldn't　understand　why　the　men　came　here　and　what　could　be　the　fascination　of　sitting　　round　these　cold　tables　talking　by　the　hour　when　there　was　so　much　happiness　outsideso　much　of　light　and　air　and　sunshine　free　to　everybody。

He　was；　moreover；　a　little　constrained　and　uncomfortable。　There　was　none　of　the　welcome　of　Mr。　Crocker's　studio　about　this　place；　nor　any　of　the　comforting　companionship　of　the　jolly　old　cashier；　who　made　the　minutes　fly　as　if　they　had　wings；　and　that；　too；　in　a　musty　bank　far　more　uninviting　even　than　the　club。　He　remembered　his　mother's　message　nowand　he　remembered　her　face　and　the　anxious　expressionas　we　always　remember　duties　when　we　are　uncomfortable。　He　meant　to　hurry　home　to　her　as　soon　as　the　Colonel　dismissed　him；　and　tell　her　how　it　had　all　happened；　and　how　sorry　he　was；　and　what　a　stupid　he　had　been；　and　she　would　forgive　him　as　she　had　a　hundred　times　before。

As　he　sat　absorbed　in　these　thoughts　his　attention　was　attracted　by　a　conversation　at　the　adjoining　table　between　that　dare…devil　cross…country　rider；　Tom　Gunning　of　Calvert　County；　old　General　McTavish　of　the　Mexican　War；　and　Billy　Talbot　the　exquisite。　Gunning　was　in　his　corduroys　and　hunting…boots。　He　always　wore　them　when　he　came　to　town；　even　when　dining　with　his　friends。　He　had　them　on　now；　the　boots　being　specially　in　evidence；　one　being　hooked　over　the　chair　on　which　he　sat　and　within　　a　foot　of　Oliver's　elbow。　None　of　these　peculiarities；　　however；　made　the　slightest　difference　in　Kennedy　　Square；　so　far　as　Gunning's　social　position　was　concernedTom's　mother　having　been　a　Carroll　and　his　grandfather　once　Governor　of　the　State。

The　distinguished　cross…country　rider　was　telling　General　McTavish；　immaculate　in　black　wig；　blue　coat；　pepper…and…salt　trousers　and　patent…leather　shoes；　and　red…faced　Billy　Talbot；　of　an　adventure　that　he；　Gunning；　had　had　the　night　before　while　driving　　home　to　his　plantation。　The　exquisite's　costume　was　in　marked　contrast　to　those　of　the　other　twoit　was　his　second　change　that　day。　At　this　precise　moment　　he　was　upholstered　in　peg…top；　checker…board　trousers；　bob…tail　Piccadi