the page and chattering and mumbling like a monkey: at length he straightened with an air of decision, took four or five keys from their boxes and gave them to the negro captain with instructions “to show this gentleman these rooms.” They all got into the elevator and went upstairs again with Robert and the negro: they looked at several rooms and at length, after great indecision, appeals for advice and guidance, and innumerable questions, Robert selected a room in the old annexe—a selection for which the other youth was grateful, since his own room was in the new one.
Robert moved in promptly the next day: they had dinner together; he was in a state of jubilant elation. Then no more was seen or heard of him for a week; when Eugene did get news of him it was neither welcome nor reassuring. The phone in his room rang one morning as he was dressing: a voice from the office asked him curtly to see Mr. Gibbs when he came down. He went downstairs with a sense of ominous misgiving: Mr. Gibbs came toward him with a puckered and protesting face as if he had just tasted something sour and unexpected; he began to speak at once in a tone of shocked and astounded indignation: “In heaven’s name!” he rasped; “who is this man Weaver that you brought here? What kind of man is here? You brought him here,” he said accusingly. “You recommended him. We thought he was all right. We took your word for it? What’s wrong with the man? Is he crazy? Is he out of his head completely?”—his face was soured and wrinkled like a persimmon, his small pinched figure trembled with excitement and indignation, he looked at the boy with an expression of horrified reproof—he was a comical sight, but the boy was in no temper at the moment to appreciate the humour of his appearance.
“What is it, Mr. Gibbs? What’s the matter? What has he done?”
“Why,” he said, trembling with anger at the very thought of it, “he tried to burn us all up last night. He came in here at three o’clock in the morning, raving and carrying on like a crazy man. Then he went upstairs and set his room on fire.”
“On fire!”
“Why, yes!” said Gibbs. “We had to call the fire brigade to put it out. Why, it’s a wonder any of us are left alive—all of these people sleeping in the hotel and this crazy man yelling and screaming at five o’clock this morning that the place is on fire! Why, we can’t have anything like that in this hotel,” he said with the air of one who describes the desecration
