Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 143: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

134 GUY HAMMERSLEY. Avenue, sauntered slowly back to his hotel along the quieter streets. He ordered an early dinner, for he feared to miss Arlington unless he called soon afterseven. In fact, it wanted five minutes to that hour when Guy entered the lofty building in Thirty-Third Street devoted to bachelor apartments. ‘‘Yes, I guess you'll find him upstairs,” the man in the elevator said in answer to his inquiry. ‘‘He came in about ten minutes ago, and I haven't seen him go out since.” Guy got out at the fourth floor, pressed an electric button beside the door pointed out to him, and half a minute later found himself confronted by Arlington himself. ‘‘Good for you, Guy,” the latter exclaimed, insist- ing upon shaking both hands at once as he pulled his friend inside. ‘‘I’m noend glad tosee you. I was just beginning to get lonesome.” ‘Why, that’s queer,” exclaimed Guy, as he gazed around at the comfortably furnished rooms, for there were two of them, separated by portiéres, and the windows looked out on two busy thoroughfares which crossed one another at this point. ‘‘I had an idea that you would never get that, knowing as many people as you do in New York.” ‘‘That's the very reason I’m so glad to see you to-night, old fellow,” returned Arlington, as he dis- posed of Guy’s hat and coat. ‘‘ You see I’m going to be perfectly frank with you. I was booked fora bowling party to-night, but there’s been an unexpected death in the family of one of the members of the Gomiechboo <S (€(@) m