Some such thoughts occupied me until I happened to see a telegram protruding from the bundle of unopened letters on my desk.
“Gods and powers! Will that triple idiot never learn to separate the telegrams from the letters? What the devil—Junkin! Junkin!” I crashed the bell with each repetition of the fool’s name, at the same time tearing open the yellow envelope.
“For God’s sake, Junkin, how many times must you be told to keep these things separate? Half an hour gone, and here’s this cipher still untranslated. Do you think you’ve nothing to do but draw your salary——”
“I’m sorry, Sir, but you see these men came——”
“Quick, get the code and translate—don’t stand around arguing! Here, give me the book!”
I rushed into the outer office, but stopped almost at the threshold of my door. The room was completely encircled by a line of men, and every eye in the crowd was turned upon me. What a motley throng it was—shabbily dressed and unshaven for the most part—untidy to the point of dirtiness. Hardly a bright, healthy face among the lot—surly and ill-tempered looking many of them. Bah! I don’t like humanity in the abstract, and loathe it in the concrete of crowds. My disgust must have been apparent, and my thought audible as I said:
“Now, my men, the place is filled. You’d better all clear out.”
But my words, forbidding as they were, did not free me.
“No, I haven’t any other job. No, I don’t expect to have any.... Yes, well, I can’t help it, can I?... Of course, I know—don’t bother me! I tell you the place is gone.... No, we never have any places in this office.... Charity Organisation, Twenty-third Street and Fourth Avenue.... Yes, yes, yes, I don’t doubt it, but I tell you I’ve filled the job—Junkin—get the janitor and clear the room—they’ll drive me mad!”
Almost frenzied, I rushed back to my private office.