him from
time to time. A little after twelve his patience gave out. The stolid
gloomy man of lower six seemed to intend sitting up all night.

"Yo' berth is ready, sah," he delicately suggested.

Thorpe arose obediently, walked to lower six, and, without undressing,
threw himself on the bed. Afterwards the porter, in conscientious
discharge of his duty, looked diligently beneath the seat for boots to
polish. Happening to glance up, after fruitless search he discovered the
boots still adorning the feet of their owner.

"Well, for th' LANDS sake!" ejaculated the scandalized negro, beating a
hasty retreat.

He was still more scandalized when, the following noon, his strange fare
brushed by him without bestowing the expected tip.

Thorpe descended at Twelfth Street in Chicago without any very clear
notion of where he was going. For a moment he faced the long park-like
expanse of the lake front, then turned sharp to his left and picked his
way south up the interminable reaches of Michigan Avenue. He did
this without any conscious motive--mainly because the reaches seemed
interminable, and he proved the need of walking. Block after block he
clicked along, the caulks of his boots striking fire from the pavement.
Some people stared at him a little curiously. Others merely glanced in
his direction, attracted more by the expression of his face than the
peculiarity of his dress. At that time rivermen were not an uncommon
sight along the water front.

After an interval he seemed to have left the smoke and dirt behind. The
street became quieter. Boarding-houses and tailors' shops ceased. Here
and there appeared a bit of lawn, shrubbery, flowers. The residences
established an uptown crescendo of magnificence. Policemen seemed
trimmer, better-gloved. Occasionally he might have noticed in front of
one of the sandstone piles, a besilvered pair champing before a stylish
vehicle. By and by he came to himself to find that he was staring at the
deep-carved lettering in a stone horse-block before a large dwelling.

His mind took the letters in one after the other, perceiving them
plainly before it accorded them recognition. Finally he had completed
the word "Farrad." He whirled sharp on his heel, mounted the broad white
stone steps, and rang the bell.

It was answered almost immediately by a cleanshaven, portly and
dignified man with the most impassive countenance in the world. This man
looked upon Thorpe with lofty disapproval.