“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
“Earl of Toppingham? Sure, he ’s staying here. What do you want to see him about?” answered the clerk, eyeing him condescendingly.
Micky clenched his fists. He would have liked to knock the fellow’s block off.
“I wish to see Miss Farquhar,” he growled, controlling himself.
“Oh, you do? Well, how do you know she ’ll see you?” inquired the clerk, who spoke as if Micky should have applied for admission to the hotel at the kitchen entrance.
“I ’ll take a chance on it,” he muttered. “Give me a blank card,—Lord Algernon.”
The clerk glared at him, but haughtily indicated a receptacle containing cards.
Micky wrote something upon one of them, carefully enclosed it in an envelope, sealed and addressed it, and delivered it to a hall-boy, together with half a crown. Then he stared the clerk out of countenance and took a seat in a grove of potted palms. The boy was gone about ten minutes. Then he appeared, looking eagerly in every direction.
“Come right up,” he said, nodding hospitably.
Micky stumbled after his guide, into a286
