8, and
as that gentleman was occupied at that moment with a younger
countryman, he allowed the old man, whom he had first cautiously
observed from the top of the stairs, to remain where he was.
The old man stood uncertainly on the stoop, and then removed his heavy
black felt hat and rubbed his bald head and the white shining locks of
hair around it with a red bandanna handkerchief. Then he walked very
slowly across the street toward Snipes, for the rest of the street was
empty, and there was no one else at hand. The old man was dressed in
heavy black broadcloth, quaintly cut, with boot legs showing up under
the trousers, and with faultlessly clean linen of home-made
manufacture.
"I can't make the people in that house over there hear me," complained
the old man, with the simple confidence that old age has in very young
boys. "Do you happen to know if they're at home?"
"Nop," growled Snipes.
"I'm looking for a man named Perceval," said the stranger; "he lives
in that house, and I wanter see him on most particular business. It
isn't a very pleasing place he lives in, is it--at least," he
hurriedly added, as if fearful of giving offence, "it isn't much on
the outside? Do you happen to know him?"
Perceval was Alf Wolfe's business name.
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