At
last he gained the exit. The tall man was nowhere to be seen.
Mr. Neal found himself on Forty-Second Street, east of Fourth Avenue. It
was night, and the December wind pierced his clothing and cut to his
very bones like a knife. He buttoned his sack coat up tightly and turned
up the collar. He decided to walk east down Forty-Second Street, in the
hope of seeing the face again. He walked very rapidly, impelled both by
the desire to keep as warm as possible, and the thought that whatever
chance he had of finding the man would be lost if he did not hurry.
As he stood for a moment on the curb before crossing Lexington Avenue,
halted by a long string of passing automobiles, he thought he saw the
tall man at about the middle of the next block. Taking his life in his
hands, he scurried across the street, dodging in and out among the
vehicles with the curses of drivers in his ears. But he got across
safely, and now he was certain that he had been right: there was the
tall figure he could not mistake. Now he gained on the man, who turned
south into Third Avenue. As Mr. Neal breathlessly turned the corner he
saw the tall man mounting the stoop of a shabby four-story apartment
house a little way down the street. About to enter, he turned his face
toward the running clerk, and even by the dim light at the entrance to
the dingy house, Mr.
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