ng, listening, straining to catch the
sound of an approaching taxi. He seemed to hear every imaginable night
noise but that: the crash and whine of trolleys, the footsteps of a
scattered handful of belated pedestrians, the infrequent windy roar of
trains on the Third Avenue L, empty clapping of horses' hoofs on the
asphalt ... the yowl of a sentimental tomcat ... a dull and distant
grumble, vague, formless, like a long, unending roll of thunder down the
horizon ... the swish and sough of waters breaking away from the flanks
of the Autocratic ... and then, finally, like a tocsin, the sonorous,
musical chiming of the grandfather's clock in the corner.

He found himself on his feet, rubbing his eyes, with a mouth dry as
paper, a thumping heart, and a vague sense of emptiness in his middle.

Had he napped--slept? How long?... He stared, bewildered, groping
blindly after his wandering wits....

The windows, that had been black oblongs in the illuminated walls, were
filled with a cool and shapeless tone of grey. He reeled (rather than
walked) to one of them and looked out.

The street below was vacant, desolate and uncannily silent, showing a
harsh, unlovely countenance like the jaded mask of some sodden reveller,
with bleary street-lamps for eyes--all mean and garish in the chilly
dusk that foreruns dawn.

Hastily Staff consulted his watch.

Four o'clock!

It occurred to him that the watch needed winding, and he stood for
several seconds twisting the stem-crown between thumb and forefinger
while stupidly comprehending the fact that he must have been asleep
between two and three hours.

Abruptly, in a fit of witless agitation, he crossed to the divan, caught
the sleeper by the shoulder and shook him till he wakened--till he
rolled over on his back, grunted and opened one eye.

"Look here!" said Staff in a quaver--"I've been asleep!"

"You've got nothing on me, then," retorted Iff with pardonable asperity.
"All the same--congratulations. Good _night_."

He attempted to turn over again, but was restrained by Staff's
imperative hand.

"It's four o'clock, and after!"

"I admit it. You might be good enough to leave a call for me for
eleven."

"But--damn it, man!--that cab hasn't come--"

"I can't help that, can I?"

"I'm afraid something has happened to that girl."

"Well, it's too late to prevent it now--if so."

"Good God! Have you no heart, man?" Staff began to stride distractedly
up and down the room. "