The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new storiesTwain, Mark
General
The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new stories
Twain, Mark
American essays -- 19th century; American fiction -- 19th century; Humorous stories, American
‘Because six hundred years ago an ancestor of mine signed the Compact.’
He reflected a moment, than looked me over and said:
‘Ancestor! It’s my opinion you signed it yourself. For of all the old
ancient relics that ever I—but never mind about that. What is it you are
waiting here for so long?’
I said:
‘I’m not waiting here so long at all. I’m waiting fifteen minutes till
they forget a glove and a book and go back and get them.’ Then I told
him who they were that I had come for.
He was very obliging, and began to shout inquiries to the tiers of heads
and shoulders projecting from the windows above us. Then a woman away up
there sang out:
‘Oh, they? Why, I got them a cab and they left here long ago—half-past
eight, I should say.’
It was annoying. I glanced at my watch, but didn’t say anything. The
officer said:
‘It is a quarter of twelve, you see. You should have inquired better.
You have been asleep three-quarters of an hour, and in such a sun as
this! You are baked—baked black. It is wonderful. And you will miss your
train, perhaps. You interest me greatly. What is your occupation?’
I said I was a courier. It seemed to stun him, and before he could come
to we were gone.
When I arrived in the third story of the hotel I found our quarters
vacant. I was not surprised. The moment a courier takes his eye off his
tribe they go shopping. The nearer it is to train time the surer they
are to go. I sat down to try and think out what I had best do next, but
presently the hall boy found me there, and said the Expedition had gone
to the station half an hour before. It was the first time I had known
them to do a rational thing, and it was very confusing. This is one of
the things that make a courier’s life so difficult and uncertain. Just
as matters are going the smoothest, his people will strike a lucid
interval, and down go all his arrangements to wreck and ruin.
The train was to leave at twelve noon sharp. It was now ten minutes
after twelve. I could be at the station in ten minutes. I saw I had no
great amount of leeway, for this was the lightning express, and on the
Continent the lightning expresses are pretty fastidious about getting
away some time during the advertised day. My people were the only ones
remaining in the waiting room; everybody else had passed through and
‘mounted the train,’ as they say in those regions. They were exhausted
with nervousness and fret, but I comforted them and heartened them up,
and we made our rush.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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