He wasn't at the club, but they told me where he was; and I spent ten cents telephoning him. At this place they said he had an engagement to be there later, so I spent another ten cents, and that time I found him. I told him who I was. “The week isn't up yet,” I said, “but the firm say they have never received the manuscript.”
“So?” he said; his voice sounded hard, I thought, and it made me shudder. “You come up to see me the day after to-morrow at ten o'clock, and you'll hear about your manuscript.”
And that is all. And I walked out of the great, rich club, and I have been pacing up and down in my own garret ever since. I am almost too ill with anxiety to stand.
April 18th.
And to-day I can only wait. Once I lay down upon the bed and cried.
April 19th.
I don't know how to tell this thing. I am simply dazed. I had an experience to-day—the most hideous thing that I think ever happened to me in my life. Oh, I have been like a madman ever since—I lost my head—I did not know what I was doing. I was really crazy—it is three o'clock in the morning, now, but I shall write it down—I can not sleep.