his steps.

Bye and bye houses began to rise alongside the road, all dark-windowed
and still. "It is very late," thought Evan. Finally the road came to
an end at the gates of a ferry-house. Evan automatically produced a
coin to pay his fare, and passed on board the boat. There were but few
passengers. He gave them a wide berth.

Reaching the other shore he started walking towards the centre of the
city. Coming to a place where trains of cars passed to and fro on a
trestle overhead, he climbed a flight of steps to a station, and
producing another coin, took a seat in the first train that came. He
was perfectly able to see, to hear, to read the advertising cards in
the train, but it was all new and inexplicable to him. Some power
outside of his consciousness was directing his steps. In the
brightly-lighted car he shivered under the gaze of his
fellow-passengers, but nobody paid him any special regard.

At a certain station something stirred his feet, and they bore him off
the train, down the steps and through certain streets to a certain door
facing upon a little Park. Fronted by this door his hand dived into
his pocket and brought forth a key which opened it. Like a
sleep-walker he mounted to the top of the house and entered a room
there. Something in the aspect of this room caused a deep sigh of
satisfaction to escape him; he knew where everything was without
lighting the gas. Undressing and climbing into bed he fell into a
dreamless sleep.

He was awakened by a pillow flung at his head. He beheld a grinning,
sharp-featured face under a shock of lank, molasses-candy-coloured
hair, a face as dear and familiar to him as the room, and he knew that
the owner of it was called Charley.

"Aren't you going to get up to-day?"

"Go to Hell!" said Evan, grinning back. Oh but the sight of his friend
was good to his eyes! Something real, something familiar, something
that identified this poor wandering soul and gave it a locus.

"You must have made a night of it," remarked Charley.

Some deep instinct still bade Evan to conceal his condition. "What's
for breakfast?" he cried, jumping up.

"Same old stunt! Beggs and acon."

"Gee! I'm as hungry as a hunter. Break me three Humpty-dumpties and
fry them sunny side up."

Charley perceived nothing amiss. Breakfast was partaken of to the
accompaniment of the usual airy persiflage. Evan knew very well that
Charley could supply the clues to his lost identit