the angel and the author-第5部分

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office　desires　to　encourage。　　Would　he　not　like　a　dog　licence　
instead？　is　what　one　window　suggests　to　him。　　〃Oh；　never　mind　that　
letter　of　yours；　come　and　talk　about　bicycles；〃　pleads　another。　　At　
last　he　thinks　he　has　found　the　right　hole：　　the　word　〃Registration〃　
he　distinctly　recognizes。　　He　taps　at　the　glass。

Nobody　takes　any　notice　of　him。　　The　foreign　official　is　a　man　whose　
life　is　saddened　by　a　public　always　wanting　something。　　You　read　it　
in　his　face　wherever　you　go。　　The　man　who　sells　you　tickets　for　the　
theatre！　　He　is　eating　sandwiches　when　you　knock　at　his　window。　　He　
turns　to　his　companion：

〃Good　Lord！〃　you　can　see　him　say；　〃here's　another　of　'em。　　If　there　
has　been　one　man　worrying　me　this　morning　there　have　been　a　hundred。　　
Always　the　same　story：　　all　of　'em　want　to　come　and　see　the　play。　　
You　listen　now；　bet　you　anything　he's　going　to　bother　me　for　tickets。　　
Really；　it　gets　on　my　nerves　sometimes。〃

At　the　railway　station　it　is　just　the　same。

〃Another　man　who　wants　to　go　to　Antwerp！　　Don't　seem　to　care　for　
rest；　these　people：　　flying　here；　flying　there；　what's　the　sense　of　
it？〃　　It　is　this　absurd　craze　on　the　part　of　the　public　for　letter…
writing　that　is　spoiling　the　temper　of　the　continental　post…office　
official。　　He　does　his　best　to　discourage　it。

〃Look　at　them；〃　he　says　to　his　assistantthe　thoughtful　German　
Government　is　careful　to　provide　every　official　with　another　official　
for　company；　lest　by　sheer　force　of　ennui　he　might　be　reduced　to　
taking　interest　in　his　work〃twenty　of　'em；　all　in　a　row！　　Some　of　
'em　been　there　for　the　last　quarter　of　an　hour。''

〃Let　'em　wait　another　quarter　of　an　hour；〃　advises　the　assistant；　
〃perhaps　they'll　go　away。〃

〃My　dear　fellow；〃　he　answers；　〃do　you　think　I　haven't　tried　that？　　
There's　simply　no　getting　rid　of　'em。　　And　it's　always　the　same　cry：　　
'Stamps！　stamps！　stamps！'　　'Pon　my　word；　I　think　they　live　on　stamps；　
some　of　'em。〃

〃Well　let　'em　have　their　stamps？〃　suggests　the　assistant；　with　a　
burst　of　inspiration；　〃perhaps　it　will　get　rid　of　'em。〃

＇Why　the　Man　in　Uniform　has；　generally；　sad　Eyes。＇

〃What's　the　use？〃　wearily　replies　the　older　man。　　〃There　will　only　
come　a　fresh　crowd　when　those　are　gone。〃

〃Oh；　well；〃　argues　the　other；　〃that　will　be　a　change；　anyhow。　　I'm　
tired　of　looking　at　this　lot。〃

I　put　it　to　a　German　post…office　clerk　oncea　man　I　had　been　boring　
for　months。　　I　said：

〃You　think　I　write　these　lettersthese　short　stories；　these　three…
act　playson　purpose　to　annoy　you。　　Do　let　me　try　to　get　the　idea　
out　of　your　head。　　Personally；　I　hate　workhate　it　as　much　as　you　
do。　　This　is　a　pleasant　little　town　of　yours：　　given　a　free　choice；　I　
could　spend　the　whole　day　mooning　round　it；　never　putting　pen　to　
paper。　　But　what　am　I　to　do？　　I　have　a　wife　and　children。　　You　know　
what　it　is　yourself：　　they　clamour　for　food；　bootsall　sorts　of　
things。　　I　have　to　prepare　these　little　packets　for　sale　and　bring　
them　to　you　to　send　off。　　You　see；　you　are　here。　　If　you　were　not　
hereif　there　were　no　post…office　in　this　town；　maybe　I'd　have　to　
train　pigeons；　or　cork　the　thing　up　in　a　bottle；　fling　it　into　the　
river；　and　trust　to　luck　and　the　Gulf　Stream。　　But；　you　being　here；　
and　calling　yourself　a　post…officewell；　it's　a　temptation　to　a　
fellow。〃

I　think　it　did　good。　　Anyhow；　after　that　he　used　to　grin　when　I　
opened　the　door；　instead　of　greeting　me　as　formerly　with　a　face　the　
picture　of　despair。　　But　to　return　to　our　inexperienced　friend。

At　last　the　wicket　is　suddenly　opened。　　A　peremptory　official　demands　
of　him　〃name　and　address。〃　　Not　expecting　the　question；　he　is　a　
little　doubtful　of　his　address；　and　has　to　correct　himself　once　or　
twice。　　The　official　eyes　him　suspiciously。

〃Name　of　mother？〃　continues　the　official。

〃Name　of　what？〃

〃Mother！〃　repeats　the　official。　　〃Had　a　mother　of　some　sort；　I　
suppose。〃

He　is　a　man　who　loved　his　mother　sincerely　while　she　lived；　but　she　
has　been　dead　these　twenty　years；　and；　for　the　life　of　him　he　cannot　
recollect　her　name。　　He　thinks　it　was　Margaret　Henrietta；　but　is　not　
at　all　sure。　　Besides；　what　on　earth　has　his　mother　got　to　do　with　
this　registered　letter　that　he　wants　to　send　to　his　partner　in　New　
York？

〃When　did　it　die？〃　asks　the　official。

〃When　did　what　die？　　Mother？〃

〃No；　no；　the　child。〃

〃What　child？〃　　The　indignation　of　the　official　is　almost　picturesque。

〃All　I　want　to　do；〃　explains　your　friend；　〃is　to　register　a　letter。〃

〃A　what？〃

〃This　letter；　I　want〃

The　window　is　slammed　in　his　face。　　When；　ten　minutes　later　he　does　
reach　the　right　wicketthe　bureau　for　the　registration　of　letters；　
and　not　the　bureau　for　the　registration　of　infantile　deathsit　is　
pointed　out　to　him　that　the　letter　either　is　sealed　or　that　it　is　not　
sealed。

I　have　never　been　able　yet　to　solve　this　problem。　　If　your　letter　is　
sealed；　it　then　appears　that　it　ought　not　to　have　been　sealed。

If；　on　the　other　hand；　you　have　omitted　to　seal　it；　that　is　your　
fault。　　In　any　case；　the　letter　cannot　go　as　it　is。　　The　continental　
official　brings　up　the　public　on　the　principle　of　the　nurse　who　sent　
the　eldest　girl　to　see　what　Tommy　was　doing　and　tell　him　he　mustn't。　　
Your　friend；　having　wasted　half　an　hour　and　mislaid　his　temper　for　
the　day；　decides　to　leave　this　thing　over　and　talk　to　the　hotel　
porter　about　it。　　Next　to　the　Burgomeister；　the　hotel　porter　is　the　
most　influential　man　in　the　continental　town：　　maybe　because　he　can　
swear　in　seven　different　languages。　　But　even　he　is　not　omnipotent。

＇The　Traveller's　one　Friend。＇

Three　of　us；　on　the　point　of　starting　for　a　walking　tour　through　the　
Tyrol；　once　sent　on　our　luggage　by　post　from　Constance　to　Innsbruck。　　
Our　idea　was　that；　reaching　Innsbruck　in　the　height　of　the　season；　
after　a　week's　tramp　on　two　flannel　shirts　and　a　change　of　socks；　we　
should　be　glad　to　get　into　fresh　clothes　before　showing　ourselves　in　
civilized　society。　　Our　bags　were　waiting　for　us　in　the　post…office：　　
we　could　see　them　through　the　grating。　　But　some　informalityI　have　
never　been　able　to　understand　what　it　washad　occurred　at　Constance。　　
The　suspicion　of　the　Swiss　postal　authorities　had　been　aroused；　and　
special　instructions　had　been　sent　that　the　bags　were　to　be　delivered　
up　only　to　their　rightful　owners。

It　sounds　sensible　enough。　　Nobody　wants　his　bag　delivered　up　to　
anyone　else。　　But　it　had　not　been　explained　to　the　authorities　at　
Innsbruck　how　they　were　to　know　the　proper　owners。　　Three　wretched…
looking　creatures　crawled　into　the　post…office　and　said　they　wanted　
those　three　bags〃those　bags；　there　in　the　corner〃which　happened　
to　be　nice；　clean；　respectable…looking　bags；　the　sort　of　bags　that　
anyone　might　want。　　One　of　them　produced　a　bit　of　paper；　it　is　true；　
which　he　said　had　been　given　to　him　as　a　receipt　by　the　post…office　
people　at　Constance。　　But　in　the　lonely　passes　of　the　Tyrol　one　man；　
set　upon　by　three；　might　easily　be　robbed　of　his　papers；　and　his　body　
thrown　over　a　precipice。　　The　chief　clerk　shook　his　head。　　He　would　
like　us　to　return　accompanied　by　someone　who　could　identify　us。　　The　
hotel　porter　occurred　to　us；　as　a　matter　of　course。　　Keeping　to　the　
back　streets；　we　returned　to　the　hotel　and　fished　him　out　of　his　box。

〃I　am　Mr。　J。；〃　I　said：　　〃this　is　my　friend　Mr。　B。　and　this　is　Mr。　S。〃

The　porter　bowed　and　said　he　was　delighted。

〃I　want　you　to　come　with　us　to　the　post…office；〃　I　explained；　〃and　
identify　us。〃

The　hotel　porter　is　always　a　practical　man：　　his　calling　robs　him　of　
all　sympathy　with　the　hide…bound　formality　of　his　compatriots。　　He　
put　on　his　cap　and　accompanied　us　back　to　the　office。　　He　did　his　
best：　　no　one　could　say　he　did　not。　　He　told　them　who　we　were：　　they　
asked　him　how　he　knew。　　For　reply　he　asked　them　how　they　thought　he　
knew　his　mother：　　he　just　knew　us：　　it　was　second　nature　with　him。　　
He　implied　that　the　question　was　a　silly　one；　and　suggested　that；　as　
his　time　was　valuable；　they　should　hand　us　over　the　three　bags　and　
have　done　with　their　nonsense。

They　asked　him　how　long　he　had　known　us。　　He　threw　up　his　hands　with　
an　eloquent　gesture：　　memory　refused　to　travel　back　such　distance。　　
It　appeared　there　was　never　a　time　when　he　had　not　known　us。　　We　had　
been　boys　together。

Did　he　know　anybody　else　who　knew　us？　　The　question　appeared　to　him　
almost　insulting。　　Everybody　in　Innsbruck　knew　us；　honoured　us；　
respected　useverybody；　that　is；　except　a　few　post…office　officials；　
people　quite　out　of　society。

Would　he　kindly　bring　along；　say；　one　undoubtedly　respectable　citizen　
who　could　vouch　for　our　identity？　　The　request　caused　him　to　forget　
us　and　our　troubles。　　The　argument　became　a　personal　quarrel　between　
the　porter　and　the　clerk。　　If　he；　the　porter；　was　not　a　respectable　
citizen　of　Innsbruck；　where　was　such　an　one　to　be　found？

＇The　disadvantage　of　being　an　unknown　Person。＇

Both　gentlemen　became　excited；　and　the　discussion　passed　beyond　my　
understanding。　　But　I　gathered　dimly　from　what　the　clerk　said；　that　
ill…natured　remarks　relative　to　the　porter's　grandfather　and　a　
missing　cow　had　never　yet　been　satisfactorily　replied　to：　　and；　from　
observations　made　by　the　porter；　that　stories　were　in　circulation　
about　the　clerk's　aunt　and　a　sergeant　of　artillery　that　should　
suggest　to　a　discreet　nephew　of　the　lady　the　inadvisability　of　
talking　about　other　people's　grandfathers。

Our　sympathies　were　naturally　with　the　porter：　　he　was　our　man；　but　
he　did　not　seem　to　be　advancing　our　cause　much。　　We　left　them　
quarrelling；　and　persuaded　the　head　waiter　that　evening　to　turn　out　
the　gas　at　our　end　of　the　table　d'hote。

The　next　morning　we　returned　to　the　post…office　by　ourselves。　　The　
clerk　proved　a　reasonable　man　when　treated　in　a　friendly　spirit。　　He　
was　a　bit　of　a　climber　himself。　　He　admitted　the　possibility　of　our　
being　the　rightful　owners。　　His　instructions　were　only　not　to　DELIVER　
UP　the　bags；　and　he　himself　suggested　a　way　out　of　the　difficulty。　　
We　might　come　each　day　and　dress　in　the　post…office；　behind　the　
screen。　　It　was　an　awkward　arrangement；　even　although　the　clerk　
allowed　us