"My name is Sidney Prale."
"Yes, Mr. Prale."
"You understand our little deal thoroughly?"
"Yes, sir."
"Come along, then. Here is a cigar—light up!"
Murk lighted the cigar, and Prale lighted another, and they went rapidly up the street to Fifth Avenue. Prale signaled a passing taxicab, and they got in. When the cab stopped, it was in a district where some cheap clothing stores remain open until almost midnight.
Half an hour later they emerged again. Murk was dressed in a suit which was somber in tone, and which was not at all a bad fit. He was dressed in new clothing from the skin out. Prale took him to a barber shop, and waited until the barber gave Murk a hair cut and a shave.
"Gosh!" Murk said, when he looked at himself in the glass. "This can't be me!"
"It is, however," Prale assured him. "Now, we'll go home, Murk, and get settled."
"Where is home?"