Wednesday morning Parr walked to the Biltmore, not hurrying, not anxious to face a free and dangerous Oholo.
At the side of the hotel he risked contact. A shutter movement of thought told him the quarry was still inside the building.
He crossed Olive at Fifth with the light and angled right into Pershing Square. He located a seat from which he could observe the entrance of the Biltmore. For one moment he considered mental assault; but remembering how strong the mind was he faced he discarded that course.
He waited. He walked around the Square. The morning seemed endless.
Finally he risked another shutter of thought.
The Oholo was still there.
Noon.
He ate in a drugstore across the street.
Still there.
As the afternoon wore on, the weariness of waiting left his body and the success of the shutter contact inflamed him with confidence. He could cross the street, enter the hotel, seek out the room. But he delayed—without admitting to himself that he was still afraid.