Then, of course, even at the best places (I almost think particularly in
the best places) you are likely any time to find under your door in the
morning a telephone message stamped "Rush," directing you to call
so-and-so "as soon as possible"--and dated 5:17-1/2 two days earlier.
Or, on coming in you are handed by the clerk a memorandum which states
that Mr. Cohan telephoned. Such matters, you reflect, are retrogressive.
If you are unacquainted with any gentleman of the name of Mr. Cohan, so
it may very well be that the guest here who is a friend of Mr. Cohan
received notice that _your_ friend Mr. Sloan telephoned. And there you
are!
My friend Harry Heartydrop (who, I declare! looks rosier even than
before the middle of January, 1920) has adopted a hotel life altogether
of late. He explains to me that the advantage of this is the new
side-line activity of numerous compassionate bell captains, who, it
seems--but that would be telling.
One of the pleasantest things, I think, about hotels is the "night maid
service" furnished at fashionable places. When you come in you find your
light burning and so do not break your shins, and your bed is "turned
down" for you. Very softening to the spirit, this. In a kind of a sort
of a hazy way one's thoughts turn back to the maternal solicitude which
used to "tuck" one "in."
Good night!
CHAPTER II
A HUMORIST MISFITS AT A MURDER TRIAL
Are you in on the great Crime Wave, brother? Almost everybody is, I
guess, in one way or another. What's your particular line? Murderer,
bandit, burglar, mortally wounded innocent bystander, juror, witness, or
victim? The police are in on it, too; every once in awhile one of them
gets blackjacked, or something like that.
I had the flu bad enough, when that was the big thing going; but somehow
so far I myself have escaped being caught in the Crime Wave. This gives
me the great advantage over most people of being a detached spectator of
the rollicking game.
I have a friend, though, who was caught up just a few days ago. He has
been telling me all about it. Murder case.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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