" The
manuscript fluttered in slips down the dark well of the staircase.
manuscript fluttered in slips down the dark well of the staircase.
Kipling - Poems
From that fate Mr.
Heldar
has yet to prove himself out of danger. "
"Wow--wow--wow--wow--wow! " said Dick, profanely. "It's a clumsy ending
and vile journalese, but it's quite true. And yet,"--he sprang to his
feet and snatched at the manuscript,--"you scarred, deboshed, battered
old gladiator! you're sent out when a war begins, to minister to the
blind, brutal, British public's bestial thirst for blood. They have
no arenas now, but they must have special correspondents. You're a fat
gladiator who comes up through a trap-door and talks of what he's seen.
You stand on precisely the same level as an energetic bishop, an affable
actress, a devastating cyclone, or--mine own sweet self. And you
presume to lecture me about my work! Nilghai, if it were worth while I'd
caricature you in four papers! "
The Nilghai winced. He had not thought of this.
"As it is, I shall take this stuff and tear it small--so!
" The
manuscript fluttered in slips down the dark well of the staircase. "Go
home, Nilghai," said Dick; "go home to your lonely little bed, and leave
me in peace. I am about to turn in till to morrow. "
"Why, it isn't seven yet! " said Torpenhow, with amazement.
"It shall be two in the morning, if I choose," said Dick, backing to the
studio door. "I go to grapple with a serious crisis, and I shan't want
any dinner. "
The door shut and was locked.
"What can you do with a man like that? " said the Nilghai.
"Leave him alone. He's as mad as a hatter. "
At eleven there was a kicking on the studio door. "Is the Nilghai with
you still? " said a voice from within. "Then tell him he might have
condensed the whole of his lumbering nonsense into an epigram: 'Only
the free are bond, and only the bond are free.
has yet to prove himself out of danger. "
"Wow--wow--wow--wow--wow! " said Dick, profanely. "It's a clumsy ending
and vile journalese, but it's quite true. And yet,"--he sprang to his
feet and snatched at the manuscript,--"you scarred, deboshed, battered
old gladiator! you're sent out when a war begins, to minister to the
blind, brutal, British public's bestial thirst for blood. They have
no arenas now, but they must have special correspondents. You're a fat
gladiator who comes up through a trap-door and talks of what he's seen.
You stand on precisely the same level as an energetic bishop, an affable
actress, a devastating cyclone, or--mine own sweet self. And you
presume to lecture me about my work! Nilghai, if it were worth while I'd
caricature you in four papers! "
The Nilghai winced. He had not thought of this.
"As it is, I shall take this stuff and tear it small--so!
" The
manuscript fluttered in slips down the dark well of the staircase. "Go
home, Nilghai," said Dick; "go home to your lonely little bed, and leave
me in peace. I am about to turn in till to morrow. "
"Why, it isn't seven yet! " said Torpenhow, with amazement.
"It shall be two in the morning, if I choose," said Dick, backing to the
studio door. "I go to grapple with a serious crisis, and I shan't want
any dinner. "
The door shut and was locked.
"What can you do with a man like that? " said the Nilghai.
"Leave him alone. He's as mad as a hatter. "
At eleven there was a kicking on the studio door. "Is the Nilghai with
you still? " said a voice from within. "Then tell him he might have
condensed the whole of his lumbering nonsense into an epigram: 'Only
the free are bond, and only the bond are free.
