"What's the joke now?" I queried, irritated.
"You," he answered. "The idea of any one's being fool enough to try
to bite off the end of a spook cigar strikes me as funny."
From that moment all thought of conciliation vanished, and I
resorted to abuse.
"You are a low-born thing!" I shouted. "And if you don't get out of
here right away I'll break every bone in your body."
"Very well," he answered, coolly, scribbling on a pad close at hand.
"There's the address."
"What address?" I asked.
"Of the cemetery where those bones you are going to break are to be
found. You go in by the side gate, and ask any of the grave-diggers
where--"
"You infernal scoundrel!" I shrieked, "this is my room. I have
bought and paid for it, and I intend to have it. Do you hear?"
His response was merely the clapping of his hands together, and in a
stage-whisper, leaning towards me, he said:
"Bravo! Bravo! You are great. I think you could do Lear. Say those
last words again, will you?"
His calmness was too much for me, and I lost all control of myself.
Picking up the water-bottle, I hurled it at him with all the force
at my command.
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