swept over him as he fell into the bed again.
“It will pass,” he said. “Come now, Jack. Easy.” He lay with his arms over his face and his eyes closed, the world spinning beneath him.
He jolted up suddenly and wiped the cold sweat from his face. “Eliza.” Sliding from the bed, he pulled on his trousers and shirt and grabbed his short frock coat. Taking his hat as he reached the door, he strode out painfully, his lame leg out of sync with the thud of the cane. The hotel was quiet at this time of night, the dim electric light of the lobby acting as his beacon from the hall. The bellman looked up from behind the desk and straightened his red cap into a presentable position.
“May I help you, sir?” he inquired, his thick Italian accent underscoring a slickly curled moustache and weathered bronze skin.
“The local booth, please. And quickly.” Tuohay handed the man two nickels.
“Yes, of course. A candle, yes?”
“A candle? No, no. Just the key please.”
“Here you are.”
Tuohay took the key from the hand of the bellman and strode to a small recess in the east end of the lobby. Above the entrance an elegantly decorated sign read: ‘Boston Telephone Service—Local Only’. Unlocking the glass-paneled door, Tuohay entered and sat down on a bench against the far wall. Residing on a small table to his left were a paper tablet, pen, and a silver candlestick-telephone. It was Swedish make. Pulling the highly polished receiver off the switchook, he held the cold metal to his ear and listened to the silence on the other end.
“Yes?”
“Hello, operator? I would like to be connected to Eliza Wilding of Number Four Province Court in Boston. It is quite urgent.”
“One moment sir.” The operator’s voice gave way to a static-filled hiss. The hiss lasted a moment and diminished, returning again a moment later. The phone line hissed several times before the voice of the operator returned.
“There seems to be no answer, sir.”
“Let it go a little longer,” said Tuohay. He shook his head as Eliza’s line continued to hiss. “Come on, Eliza.” After a few more moments without an answer, Tuohay placed the receiver back onto the switchook and returned to the hotel desk with the phone key in hand. “I need to get to Province Court right away.”
The bellman mused for a moment. “The hotel automobile. Work for you, yes?”
“When can it be ready?”
“Right away. The fare at this hour is one dollar.”
Tuohay gave the bellman a dollar and watched impatiently as the Italian called in a driver from the hotel phone. After a moment he turned back to Tuohay. “You will be picked up out front.”
A cold drizzle blew against Tuohay’s face as he stepped outside. Gathering his coat, he walked to the road and watched as a pearl gray fog rolled sluggishly towards him from the east. The finer tendrils of mist soared above his head, their gray fingers transparent under the nearby electric light. Suddenly a muffled roar broke the night’s silence, and a yellow globe materialized from the darkness. The mist parted as the globe quickly approached, revealing itself as a dew-covered lantern latched to the front of a vibrating automobile. The garbled hum of the auto’s metallic heart echoed in the night as the driver pulled up beside Tuohay.
It was a toboggan on wheels. Chocolate brown in color, the self-propelled carriage had four wheels, a skeletal metal frame, and a long seat for two. The driver, hunched on the right side of the vehicle, held the thin metal shifter firmly in place as his left hand grasped the rudder-like steering shaft. The engine rumbled from within an enclosed steel box situated directly behind the seat, and as Tuohay climbed up he could feel the mechanics vibrating beneath him. The driver, a surprisingly young man by the looks of him, was dressed in a short gray sports coat and a checkered baker boy cap. He nodded to Tuohay and wiped the rain from his glasses.
“Ever ride in a cah
“It will pass,” he said. “Come now, Jack. Easy.” He lay with his arms over his face and his eyes closed, the world spinning beneath him.
He jolted up suddenly and wiped the cold sweat from his face. “Eliza.” Sliding from the bed, he pulled on his trousers and shirt and grabbed his short frock coat. Taking his hat as he reached the door, he strode out painfully, his lame leg out of sync with the thud of the cane. The hotel was quiet at this time of night, the dim electric light of the lobby acting as his beacon from the hall. The bellman looked up from behind the desk and straightened his red cap into a presentable position.
“May I help you, sir?” he inquired, his thick Italian accent underscoring a slickly curled moustache and weathered bronze skin.
“The local booth, please. And quickly.” Tuohay handed the man two nickels.
“Yes, of course. A candle, yes?”
“A candle? No, no. Just the key please.”
“Here you are.”
Tuohay took the key from the hand of the bellman and strode to a small recess in the east end of the lobby. Above the entrance an elegantly decorated sign read: ‘Boston Telephone Service—Local Only’. Unlocking the glass-paneled door, Tuohay entered and sat down on a bench against the far wall. Residing on a small table to his left were a paper tablet, pen, and a silver candlestick-telephone. It was Swedish make. Pulling the highly polished receiver off the switchook, he held the cold metal to his ear and listened to the silence on the other end.
“Yes?”
“Hello, operator? I would like to be connected to Eliza Wilding of Number Four Province Court in Boston. It is quite urgent.”
“One moment sir.” The operator’s voice gave way to a static-filled hiss. The hiss lasted a moment and diminished, returning again a moment later. The phone line hissed several times before the voice of the operator returned.
“There seems to be no answer, sir.”
“Let it go a little longer,” said Tuohay. He shook his head as Eliza’s line continued to hiss. “Come on, Eliza.” After a few more moments without an answer, Tuohay placed the receiver back onto the switchook and returned to the hotel desk with the phone key in hand. “I need to get to Province Court right away.”
The bellman mused for a moment. “The hotel automobile. Work for you, yes?”
“When can it be ready?”
“Right away. The fare at this hour is one dollar.”
Tuohay gave the bellman a dollar and watched impatiently as the Italian called in a driver from the hotel phone. After a moment he turned back to Tuohay. “You will be picked up out front.”
A cold drizzle blew against Tuohay’s face as he stepped outside. Gathering his coat, he walked to the road and watched as a pearl gray fog rolled sluggishly towards him from the east. The finer tendrils of mist soared above his head, their gray fingers transparent under the nearby electric light. Suddenly a muffled roar broke the night’s silence, and a yellow globe materialized from the darkness. The mist parted as the globe quickly approached, revealing itself as a dew-covered lantern latched to the front of a vibrating automobile. The garbled hum of the auto’s metallic heart echoed in the night as the driver pulled up beside Tuohay.
It was a toboggan on wheels. Chocolate brown in color, the self-propelled carriage had four wheels, a skeletal metal frame, and a long seat for two. The driver, hunched on the right side of the vehicle, held the thin metal shifter firmly in place as his left hand grasped the rudder-like steering shaft. The engine rumbled from within an enclosed steel box situated directly behind the seat, and as Tuohay climbed up he could feel the mechanics vibrating beneath him. The driver, a surprisingly young man by the looks of him, was dressed in a short gray sports coat and a checkered baker boy cap. He nodded to Tuohay and wiped the rain from his glasses.
“Ever ride in a cah
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