“Once all these houses were occupied by rich people, but to-day they are the abodes of the poor and the outcast.”
“What is your name?”
“My name! It matters not. Good night.”
“Well, well, keep your secret, old man. God bless you, and may this new year bring you happiness.”
“Happiness! I shall never know that again. Good night, again.”
He moved off slowly, and the policeman watched him until he turned the corner into West Broadway, when he proceeded to patrol his beat.
As the policeman moved away, a dark form came out of a near-by doorway and hurried around the corner.
The man was tall, he wore a long ulster with the collar turned up around his neck, and a slouch hat was pulled down over his eyes. He followed closely in the old man’s trail.
The old man halted several times, and as he did so his form seemed to lose its decrepitude. As the light from the street lamps shone upon his face it could be seen that his eyes glared like two living coals; he threw his hand aloft, and so fierce and startling was the action that the man who was following him halted and shrank back for an instant, as if he had been struck.
“Vengeance!” the old man hissed, and then he started on again.