The American Claimant by Mark Twain

They searched the paper diligently, and were appalled to find that a one-

armed man had been seen flying along one of the halls of the hotel in his

underclothing and apparently out of his head with fright, and as he would

listen to no one and persisted in making for a stairway which would carry

him to certain death, his case was given over as a hopeless one.

“Poor fellow,” sighed Hawkins; “and he had friends so near. I wish we

hadn’t come away from there-maybe we could have saved him.”

The earl looked up and said calmly:

“His being dead doesn’t matter. He was uncertain before. We’ve got him

sure, this time.”

“Got him? How?”

“I will materialize him.”

“Rossmore, don’t–don’t trifle with me. Do you mean that? Can you do

it?”

“I can do it, just as sure as you are sitting there. And I will.”

“Give me your hand, and let me have the comfort of shaking it. I was

perishing, and you have put new life into me. Get at it, oh, get at it

right away.”

“It will take a little time, Hawkins, but there’s no hurry, none in the

world–in the circumstances. And of course certain duties have devolved

upon me now, which necessarily claim my first attention. This poor young

nobleman–”

“Why, yes, I am sorry for my heartlessness, and you smitten with this new

family affliction. Of course you must materialize him first–I quite

understand that.”

“I–I–well, I wasn’t meaning just that, but,–why, what am I thinking

of! Of course I must materialize him. Oh, Hawkins, selfishness is the

bottom trait in human nature; I was only thinking that now, with the

usurper’s heir out of the way But you’ll forgive that momentary weakness,

and forget it. Don’t ever remember it against me that Mulberry Sellers

was once mean enough to think the thought that I was thinking. I’ll

materialise him–I will, on my honor–and I’d do it were he a thousand

heirs jammed into one and stretching in a solid rank from here to the

stolen estates of Rossmore, and barring the road forever to the rightful

earl!

“There spoke the real Sellers–the other had a false ring, old friend.”

“Hawkins, my boy, it just occurs to me–a thing I keep forgetting to

mention-a matter that we’ve got to be mighty careful about.”

“What is that?”

“We must keep absolutely still about these materializations. Mind, not a

hint of them must escape–not a hint. To say nothing of how my wife and

daughter–high-strung, sensitive organizations–might feel about them,

the negroes wouldn’t stay on the place a minute.”

“That’s true, they wouldn’t. It’s well you spoke, for I’m not naturally

discreet with my tongue when I’m not warned.”

Sellers reached out and touched a bell-button in the wall; set his eye

upon the rear door and waited; touched it again and waited; and just as

Hawkins was remarking admiringly that the Colonel was the most

progressive and most alert man he had ever seen, in the matter of

impressing into his service every modern convenience the moment it was

invented, and always keeping breast to breast with the drum major in the

great work of material civilization, he forsook the button (which hadn’t

any wire attached to it,) rang a vast dinner bell which stood on the

table, and remarked that he had tried that new-fangled dry battery, now,

to his entire satisfaction, and had got enough of it; and added:

“Nothing would do Graham Bell but I must try it; said the mere fact of my

trying it would secure public confidence, and get it a chance to show

what it could do. I told him that in theory a dry battery was just a

curled darling and no mistake, but when it come to practice, sho!–and

here’s the result. Was I right? What should you say, Washington

Hawkins? You’ve seen me try that button twice. Was I right?–that’s the

idea. Did I know what I was talking about, or didn’t I?”

“Well, you know how I feel about you, Colonel Sellers, and always have

felt. It seems to me that you always know everything about everything.

If that man had known you as I know you he would have taken your judgment

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