And out in the corridor, besieged by following tears and moans, Martin crept down the stairs into the street. Unquestioning, he waited before the tiny theater for Drew’s arrival.
As Martin watched, a limousine drew up before the theater and stopped. Drew, his friend, stepped out. He made no sign, but pulled down his hat and turned up the collar of his coat, bringing it under his chin. Then he observed the trade, beckoning at last to a roughly dressed youngster with golden skin and frightened eyes. As he helped the lad into his car, he closed the door upon him, and turning to Martin who stood so quietly in the rain, Drew removed his hat, keeping it off until the water spilled over his blond, pinned hair. His lips spelled “Night.” He bowed slightly and entered the car, closing the door as Martin started toward him. As the limousine passed, Martin could see his mocking, tired face.
CHAPTER XVIII
In his room Martin laid his head upon his desk. He wondered about Roberts, his magnificence at the drag, the mad poem intended for himself. Confused by these thoughts, he fell asleep. He dreamed that he was in the bow of a shining canoe, spinning down a great white length of rapids. In the stern of the boat two men were fighting. Rio, and the giant with the white, rain-soaked shirt were striking each other fiercely. Above them hovered the spirit of Freud, smiling at both of them and holding a battered text in one hand and a setscrew in the other which were apparently to be awarded to the victor. Roberts, however, in the form of mist, obstructed the blows of the fighters until the two gladiators became entangled and suddenly dissolved. The spirit of Freud withdrew hastily, while the adviser, with a faint smile at Martin, sat down in the boat as it rotated toward destruction.
Martin awakened from the dream with a somber expression. Then he shook his head and laughed.
“What a symbol!” he exclaimed to himself.
The deep whistles of a ship ready to sail seemed to agitate him and he lowered his head upon the desk again. He thought of Paris, where Drew was going, of Tai with him, and of Deane seeing him off. Once more Martin fell asleep, this time in a world uninhabited by dreams.