Hartmann the Anarchist; Or, the Doom of the Great City

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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III. A Mother's Troubles. A RAW London morning is a terrible foe to romance ?visions that have danced elf-like before the view on the foregoing night tend to lose their charm or even to mer...(展開全部) Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III. A Mother's Troubles. A RAW London morning is a terrible foe to romance ?visions that have danced elf-like before the view on the foregoing night tend to lose their charm or even to merge themselves wholly in the commonplace. So it was with me. When I came down to breakfast and reviewed the situation calmly, I was ready to laugh at my faith in what seemed the wild vagaries of Schwartz and Burnett. The memory of the queer little parlour and its queerer tenants had lost its overnight vividness and given place to a suspicion that either I or my hosts had indulged too freely in whisky. The little plate, however, was still in my possession, and this very tangible witness sufficed, despite a growing scepticism, to give me pause. "A striking discovery no doubt," was my verdict, " but the dream of Hart- mann, as Burnett calls it, is not so easily realized." Still I should know all?if anything worth the mentionwas to be known?on Saturday night if I showed up at the odd trysting-place named by Burnett ? a trysting-place which at that hour meant a scramble over palings, and a possible trouble with the police. But these things were trifles. All things considered, I should do well to present myself with or without Burnett, for the boasted aeronef apart, the threats of the anarchists had begun to perplex me mightily, and the wish to meet their notorious leader, the so terrible son of my old friend Mrs. Hartmann, was not to be summarily exorcised. I had passed the morning in study. Luncheon over, I jotted down some notes for my speech on the following Saturday. Next, I sent Lena a note promising to look in on Sunday afternoon, sallied out with it to the post, and then ensconced myself in an omnibus which was plying in the direction of Islington. Whither was I bound ? For the h...

Hartmann the Anarchist; Or, the Doom of the Great City

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