on
to the worst. He knew the futility of arguing with his master. But he
followed him down to the hall and tied on the bandage himself. He was
honest about it, too, for Hillard could see nothing. Then the
messenger-boy took him by the hand and led him to the carriage. As the
two were climbing in, Giovanni spoke rapidly in his native tongue.

"There is no number on the carriage!"

"Too late to bother now."

The carriage rolled off toward the club, where the dinner, hot and
smoking, was taken on.

"Joinin' th' Elks?" asked the boy, when they were well under way once
more.

"No, it's a seance. They are going to call up my fate round a table."

"Huh? Aw, go-wan! Dey don't call up no ghosts wit' French cider and hot
boids." The boy relapsed into silence.

Hillard tried to follow the turns of the carriage, but these were too
many; and so he resigned himself to become totally lost. By and by the
carriage stopped.

"Dis is where we alights, me loid!" the boy jeered. "An' no lookin',
mind."

Hillard found the carriage steps and landed safely. He stood for a
moment, listening. They were in a quiet part of the city; no elevated or
surface cars were near. He was assured that the location was exclusive.
Garrets are not to be found in quiet places.

"Look out fer th' steps," said the boy, again taking Hillard by the
hand.

"And you be careful of that basket."

"I ain't lettin' it drop any."

Winding steps, thought the blindfolded man. He could recollect none. It
seemed to him that they stood there five minutes before the door opened.
When it did, the boy passed in the basket and resolutely pushed Hillard
into the hall. The door closed gently, and the adventure was begun.
Whither would it lead him?

"Take off the bandage the signore may now," said a voice in broken
English.

"Thanks!" He tore the handkerchief from his eyes and blinked. The hall
was so dimly lighted that he could see nothing distinctly.

"The signore's coat and hat."

He passed over these articles, shook the wrinkles from his trousers,
smoothed his chin, and stood at attention. The maid eyed him with
abundant approval, then knocked timidly on the door leading to the
drawing-room. He was sure of one thing: this was some millionaire's
home. What if he should see in the drawing-room a party of his intimate
friends, ready to plague and jest? He shuddered. He never had
entertained such an appalling probability.

"_Avanti!_" called a soft voice from