Then, for the first time, he realized that he had made a regular practice of searching through the Morning Monitor each day when he arrived at the Merrimac Club. This action had been the only regular procedure in his otherwise unregulated life.
A deluge of thoughts gripped Paget’s mind. He controlled himself, carefully folded the paper, and sauntered across the reading room. There he sat in a chair and stared straight ahead; but his eyes could barely see the man with the newspaper.
Half an hour went by. Neither Paget nor the other man made a motion. Finally the strain told on Paget.
He arose and walked by the man.
He made no effort to repress his smile. The man was asleep!
Paget strolled from the reading room. He sauntered from the club and stood outside in the gathering dusk. Here, again, he felt the sensation of some one watching him.
He wondered if the man had really been asleep. He controlled the desire to return and see.
Instead, Paget called a cab. He rode to his apartment uptown. Arriving there, he made a careful search of every room.
Satisfied that he was alone, Paget entered a small closetlike alcove that led off from the bedroom. There was a window in the alcove — a high window with a small rolled-up blind. Paget drew down the shade.
A large sheet of paper fluttered to the floor.