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Additional resources for 6xH: Six stories (AKA The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag)
Mr. ” “How do you do, Mr. ” “How do you do,” Randall answered mechanically. “Look here, this has gone far—” “Then Mr. Gravesby, Mr. Wells, Mr. Yoakum, Mr. Printemps, Mr. Jones. Mr. Phipps you have met. He is our secretary. Beyond him is seated Mr. Reifsnider and Mr. Snyder—no relation. And finally Mr. Parker and Mr. Crewes. Mr. ” Randall tried to get up again, but the table top seemed unbelievably slippery. “I don’t care,” he said bitterly, “whether you have a quorum or a gang fight. ” “Tut, Mr.
It has but two elevators. One was down and empty; the other, by the indicator, had just started up. Randall stepped up to the open car, but did not enter. ” “Two,” the elevator pilot answered. ” “Yeah. I was breezin’ with Bert when he closed the door. Mr. Harrison and another bird. ” Randall passed him a quarter. “Never mind,” he said, his eyes on the slowly turning arrow of the indicator. “What floor does Mr. ” The arrow had just stopped at seven. ” The arrow started up again, moved slowly past eight and nine, stopped at ten.
Well, I presume I should not impose on you further. ” “I’ll tell him so. Was there anything in particular you had to say to him? ” “No—” he said slowly. “No, I suppose . . ” “What does, Mr. ” He searched her face. “I wonder— Mrs. ” “I can’t say that I’ve thought much about it,” she answered cautiously. She wondered if Teddy were listening, if he could reach her quickly if she screamed. Hoag was fumbling strangely at his shirt front; he got a button opened; she whiffed an acrid, unclean smell, then he was holding out something in his hand, something fastened by a string around his neck under his shirt.