I'm due on West
44th. I'm dining to-night with Marcelline--all that is left of her!'

"He put his hand to his hat brim with a grewsome salute. Such a
scandalous, foolish old face as he had! When we pulled up at the
Astor, I stuck my hand in my pocket and asked him if he'd like a
little loan.

"'No, thank you, but'--he leaned over and whispered, ugh!--'but save
a little, save a little. Forty years from now--a little--comes in
handy. Save a little.'

"His eyes fairly glittered as he made his remark. I jumped out. I'd
have jumped into the North River. When he tripped off, I asked my
chauffeur if he'd noticed the man who got into the car with me. He
said he knew someone was with me, but he hadn't noticed just when he
got in. Want to hear any more?"

Cavenaugh dropped into his chair again. His plump cheeks were a
trifle more flushed than usual, but he was perfectly calm. Eastman
felt that the young man believed what he was telling him.

"Of course I do. It's very interesting. I don't see quite where you
are coming out though."

Cavenaugh sniffed. "No more do I. I really feel that I've been put
upon. I haven't deserved it any more than any other fellow of my
kind. Doesn't it impress you disagreeably?"

"Well, rather so. Has anyone else seen your friend?"

"You saw him."

"We won't count that. As I said, there's no certainty that you and I
saw the same person in the court that night. Has anyone else had a
look in?"

"People sense him rather than see him. He usually crops up when I'm
alone or in a crowd on the street. He never approaches me when I'm
with people I know, though I've seen him hanging about the doors of
theatres when I come out with a party; loafing around the stage
exit, under a wall; or across the street, in a doorway. To be frank,
I'm not anxious to introduce him. The third time, it was I who came
upon him. In November my driver, Harry, had a sudden attack of
appendicitis. I took him to the Presbyterian Hospital in the car,
early in the evening. When I came home, I found the old villain in
my rooms. I offered him a drink, and he sat down. It was the first
time I had seen him in a steady light, with his hat off.

"His face is lined like a railway map, and as to color--Lord, what a
liver! His scalp grows tight to his skull, and his hair is dyed
until it's perfectly dead, like a piece of black cloth."

Cavenaugh ran his fingers through his own neatly trimmed thatch, and
seemed to forget where he wa