“It isn’t ghosts ye are seeing, Mr. Noll?” he asked.
Noll put his hand on the other’s shoulder:
“Quick, man—where is the house?”
“Ah, now—Mr. Noll—ye’re pullin’ the innocent leg of me,” he said, laughing.
Noll pulled himself together. He strode to the door.
“Quick, Devlin—for God’s sake! Which way does—the—the man of pallid ideals usually go?” he asked roughly.
The barber followed him to the street, and standing in the lamp-lit dusk he pointed out the way:
“Up there, till ye reach that turn by the red pillar-box, then sharp to the right—then straight on till ye—— Begad, he’s off like a policeman down the kitchen steps when the area belle’s a-ringing——”
He stood gaping at the vanishing figure of the youth who strode up the street.
The little man’s jaw dropped.