Neal could see how ineffably spiritual and strong
the face was. Joy filled the little clerk's heart so full that tears
came to his eyes. At last he was to meet the man with the "good
face"--after so long! He managed to find breath to call out.
"I say!" he shouted.
But he was too late, for the door had closed almost before the words
left his mouth.
Leaping up the steps, he found that the door was not locked, and he
entered a dark hallway. He heard a step on the landing above, and called
out again, but there was no answer. He hurried up the creaking stairs,
but he was just in time to see the first door on his left closed
silently but firmly.
Mr. Neal hesitated. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead, which
was damp with perspiration. Then he rang the bell.
The hallway was dimly lighted with one small gas jet over against the
discolored wall. Mr. Neal waited. Presently he heard footsteps. Then the
door was opened and a flood of warm light poured into the dim little
hall. A short, white-bearded old man stood in the doorway. He seemed the
very personification of serene happiness, and over his shoulder peered
an old lady whose face was lighted by the same kindly joy. There was an
atmosphere of quiet goodness about them both; it flooded out into the
hallway as sensibly as the glow of light itself.
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