Section 38
Presently the couple rose and strolled away to the elevator, and
Peter followed. He did not dare get into the elevator with them, for
he had suddenly become accutely aware of the costume he was wearing
in his role of proletarian anti-militarist! But Peter was certain
that Nell and her escort were not going out of the building, for
they had no hats or wraps; so he went downstairs and hunted thru the
lobby and the dining-room, and then thru the basement, from which he
heard strains of music. Here was another vast room, got up in mystic
oriental fashion, with electric lights hidden in bunches of
imitation flowers on each table. This room was called the "grill,"
and part of it was bare for dancing, and on a little platform sat a
band playing music.
The strangest music that ever assailed human ears! If Peter had
heard it before seeing Nell, he would not have understood it, but
now its weird rhythms fitted exactly to the moods which were
tormenting him. This music would groan, it would rattle and squeak;
it would make noises like swiftly torn canvas, or like a steam siren
in a hurry. It would climb up to the heavens and come banging down
to hell. And every thing with queer, tormenting motions, gliding and
writhing, wriggling, jerking, jumping. Peter would never have known
what to make of such music, if he had not had it here made visible
before his eyes, in the behavior of the half-naked goddesses and the
black-coated gods on this dancing floor. These celestial ones came
sliding across the floor like skaters, they came writhing like
serpents, they came strutting like turkeys, jumping like rabbits,
stalking solemnly like giraffes. They came clamped in one another's
arms like bears trying to hug each other to death; they came
contorting themselves as if they were boa-constrictors trying to
swallow each other. And Peter, watching them and listening to their
music, made a curious discovery about himself. Deeply buried in
Peter's soul were the ghosts of all sorts of animals; Peter had once
been a boa-constrictor, Peter had once been a bear, Peter had once
been a rabbit and a giraffe, a turkey and a fox; and now under the
spell of this weird music these dead creatures came to life in his
soul. So Peter discovered the meaning of "jazz," in all its weirdly
named and incredible varieties.
Also Peter discovered that he had once been a caveman, and had hit
his rival over the head with a stone axe and carried off his girl by
the hair. All this he discovered while he stood in the doorway of
the Hotel de Soto grill, and watched Nell, the ex-chambermaid of the
Temple of Jimjambo, doing the turkey-trot and the fox-trot and the
grizzly-bear and the bunny-hug in the arms of a young man with the
face of a bulldog.
Peter stood for a long while in a daze. Nell and the young man sat
down at one of the tables to have a meal, but still Peter stood
watching and trying to figure out what to do. He knew that he must
not speak to her in his present costume; there would be no way to
make her understand that he was only playing a role--that he who
looked like a "dead one" was really a prosperous man of important
affairs, a 100% red-blooded patriot disguised as a proletarian
pacifist. No, he must wait, he must get into his best before he
spoke to her. But meantime, she might go away, and he might not be
able to find her again in this huge city!
After an hour or two he succeeded in figuring out a way, and hurried
upstairs to the writing-room and penned a note:
"Nell: This is your old friend Peter Gudge. I have struck it rich
and have important news for you. Be sure to send word to me. Peter."
To this he added his address, and sealed it in an envelope to "Miss
Nell Doolin."
Then he went out into the lobby, and signalled to one of the
brass-button imps who went about the place calling names in shrill
sing-song; he got this youngster off in a corner and pressed a
dollar bill into his hand. There was a young lady in the grill who
was to have this note at once. It was very important. Would the
brass-button imp do it?
The imp said sure, and Peter stood in the doorway and watched him
walk back and forth thru the aisles of the grill, calling in his
shrill sing-song, "Miss Nell Doolin! Miss Nell Doolin!" He walked
right by the table where Nell sat eating; he sang right into her
face, it seemed to Peter; but she never gave a sign.
Peter did not know what to make of it, but he was bound to get that
note to Nell. So when the imp returned, he pointed her out, and the
imp went again and handed the note to her. Peter saw her take
it--then he darted away; and remembering suddenly that he was
supposed to be on duty, be rushed back to the office and inquired
for Mr. Lackman. To his horror he learned that Mr. Lackman had
returned, paid his bill, and departed with his suitcase to a
destination unknown!
