"I think you're doing right, Fee," I began. I didn't remember until afterward that I really didn't know what his plan was; but I don't think he heard what I said, for he went on in a low tone, as if he were talking to himself: "Suppose he gets furiously angry, and pitches into me before those low fellows,—you never know what Phil's going to say when he gets mad,—and will not come home with me, what'll I do then? It's a risk. And if this plan fails, I don't know what else to do. Had I better just let things drift along as they are until we get in the country, and then speak to him? I dread a row before that crowd; they'd just set him up against me. And yet—a week more of nights to come home as he did last night, and the night before that—ought I to let that go on? What would she say to do?"
He stood with his head bent, thinking,—his hat and cane in one hand, and holding on to the stone newel-post with the other. And as we waited the gay strains of Nora's waltz came to us through the windows; since that night I just hate to hear her play that piece.
Presently Felix looked up at me with the faintest little smile. "I came pretty near asking you to write me down a coward, Jack," he said; "but I'm all right again. Now for your part of this affair: If Phil will come back with me, as I hope, you'll have to make your way home alone, without letting him know of your being there. Try and manage it. If he gets ugly, and will not leave that crowd, why, then we—you and I—'ll have to travel back as we went. You must judge for yourself, Rosebud, whether to go, or to stay for me; I'll have enough to do, you know, to manage Phil. Apart from that, have as little to do in the matter as possible; ask no questions, speak to no one, and see and hear no more than you can help. All right?"
"Yes," I answered quickly, "and I only wish I could do more for you, Fee."
Felix put his hand on my shoulder for a rest, as he usually did when we walked together. "You've been a real comfort to me, Jack, since Nannie went away," he said. I tell you that meant lots from him, and I knew it; I just put up my hand and squeezed Fee's fingers as they rested on my coat; then we started off.
On Fee's account we walked very slowly; but after a while we came to a house with a very low stoop,—just a step or two from the ground. There were handsome glass doors to the vestibule, and the rather small hall was brilliantly lighted up. I fancied that the man who opened the door looked at me as if he thought I had no business there; but Felix marched right by him and stepped into the elevator, and of course I followed.
"Mr. Whitcombe," said Fee; and then I knew that we were in the apartment house where Chad has his "bachelor quarters."
"Turn to your left," said the elevator man, as he let us out. We did so, and just as we got opposite the door with the big silver knob and old bronze knocker that Chad had told us he brought from Europe, it opened, and some one came out. Well, truly, he didn't look any older than fifteen,—two years older than I am, mind you,—but if he didn't have on a long-tailed evening coat, an awfully high stand-up collar, and a tall silk hat! You can't think what a queer figure he was,—like a caricature.
Before he could shut the door, Felix lifted his hat, and then put out his hand quickly. "Allow me," he said politely; and the next moment we were in Chad's hall, with his front door closed behind us.
At the other end of this hall was a room very brightly lighted; the portière was pushed almost entirely aside, and we could see some young fellows seated round a table. Nearly all had cigars or cigarettes in their mouths,—Phil, too; the room was just thick with smoke, and they were playing cards.