"Come, Miss Helene, there is method in this. Let us walk, as it
seems to have been planned we should."
"Is it wise? Why put yourself in their net?"
For reply, he placed in her hand the walking stick which he had
so carefully guarded when they entered the apartment. It was
heavier than a policeman's nightstick. As he retook it, she
observed the straightening line of his lips.
"As the French say, 'We shall see what we shall see.' Please
walk a little behind me, so that my right arm may be free."
It was after two, and the street was dark. Shirley had noted an
arc-light on the corner when he had entered the building--now it
was extinguished. A man lurched forward as they turned into
Sixth Avenue, his eyes covered by a dark cap.
"Say gent! Give a guy that's down an' out the price of a beef
stew? I got three pennies an' two more'll fix me."
"No!"
"Aw, gent, have a heart!" The man was persistent, drawing
closer, as Shirley walked an with his companion, into the
increasing darkness, away from the corner.
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