drove to the address given me on the paper. It was an odd,
half-forgotten street, terminating in a _cul-de-sac,_ and not far
from the river. The few houses it contained were larger than the
majority of those in the neighborhood, but were in a shocking state of
repair. The one at which I eventually stopped had a timber yard
adjoining, or rather attached to it. I left the taxicab outside, and
made my somewhat uncertain way up to the front door. Only a few yards
from me a great black dog was straining at his collar and barking
furiously. I was somewhat relieved when the door was opened
immediately at my knock.

"Is Mr. Hoffmeyer staying here?" I asked.

A little old man carrying a tallow candle stuck into a cheap
candlestick nodded assent, and closed the door after me. I noticed,
without any particular pleasure, that he also drew the bolts.

"What do you do that for?" I asked sharply. "I shall only be here a
few minutes. It is not worth while locking up."

The man looked at me but said nothing. He seemed to show neither any
desire nor any ability for speech. Only as I repeated my question he
nodded slowly as one who barely understands.

"Mr. Hoffmeyer is in his room," he said. "He will be glad to see you."

I followed him along as miserable a passage as ever I saw in my
life. The walls were damp, and the paper hung down here and there in
long, untidy patches. The ceiling was barely whitewashed; the stairs
by which we passed were uncarpeted. The whole place had a most
dejected and weary appearance. Then he showed me into a small
sitting-room, in which one man sat writing at a table. He looked up as
I entered. It was Delora.

"Well," he said, "so this is how you keep your promise!"

"Something has happened since then," I answered. "I have received a
cable from my brother which we do not understand."

"A cable from your brother in Brazil?" he asked slowly.

"Yes!" I answered.

Delora turned slowly in his chair and rose to his feet. He was tall
and gaunt. His face was lined. He had somehow or other the appearance
of a man who is driven to bay. Yet there was something splendid about
the way he nerved himself to listen to me with indifference.

"What does he say--your brother?"

"The cable is inspired by Nicholas Delora," I answered. "Listen, and
I will read it to you."

I read it to him word by word. When I had finished he simply nodded.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"That is all," I answered. "You will see th