I had never seen these men before in my life. As I retreated toward my desk, they swept the books off it onto the wet floor. They sat on the desk and stared at me, and everything became very quiet.
They were proprietors of the restaurant in the corner building, also owned by my landlord. In shutting off the water, I had turned off theirs, too. They also had called the landlord, and he told them that I was undoubtedly responsible. But he failed to tell them what had been happening to me.
Now I showed them the broken pipe, the floor still wet in spots, my hands which were raw and bruised. I picked up the books from the floor and took off the wet dust jackets. Here goes my profit for a week, I thought. I could tell their anger had cooled. Instead of being cruel, they looked almost contrite. I went outside again in my wet shoes and socks and coat and turned one of the shut-off keys. Naturally it was the wrong one. The restaurant man pounded at the window to attract my attention. I reversed my switches and restored their precious water.
I remained in the shop a while, too exhausted and heartbroken to leave. Where now, little man? I didn’t know. But I resolved never to call my landlord again—no matter what.
It was a fruitless resolve. One morning two inspectors from the Fire Department paid me a visit.
“Are those your logs under the stairs?” one of them asked.
“Those are my logs,” I said. “But they are not under the stairs. They are by a stone wall near the stairs.”
“That makes no difference. It’s a fire hazard and someone has filed a complaint. Get the logs out by tomorrow or we’ll close you up.”
I remembered my landlord’s visit a week earlier. He had commented that I had a good pile of logs which should make a warm fire. He twirled his cane and looked at me from cat-grey eyes, set in a flabby yellow face crushed in a thousand wrinkles. As he minced about on his tiny feet, encased in patent leather pumps, I expected any moment to see the walls part or the ceiling open for his exit. When he left in the normal way, wishing me good luck and great success, I was sure he doffed his black homburg to me. Almost sure.
Now I threw my resolutions to the wind and phoned him, determined to take the offensive at any cost.