“If you ever need a friend, don’t forget us.”
These words came to him again and again. It was as if they had just been spoken.
“A friend,” he thought to himself. “Will I be badly in need of a friend?”
Surely if anything went wrong before the remaining packages were delivered he would. He had broken postal regulations, smashed them all to bits.
But here he was again. The car had drawn up before a hotel of magnificent proportions. Even at these last hours of night, a liveried attendant opened the car door.
“Fri—Fritz Lieber,” said Curlie in some confusion. “I must see him.”
The doorman stared at him and his torn mailsack, but led the way to the desk.
Here the boy repeated his request.
“It is very unusual for a guest, especially so important a guest, to be disturbed at this hour,” said the clerk. “What is it, a registered package? You may leave it. We’ll deliver it.”
“It is a registered package.” Curlie spoke slowly as he sized up the clerk and decided not to confide in him. “I can’t leave it. I must have Mr. Lieber’s own signature. And I want you to know that it is important. Mr. Lieber will thank you for letting him know I am here.”