CHAPTER XX—PETER GETS A NOTE
THE Worm walked slowly and thoughtfully across to Washington Square and the old brick apartment building.
Peter was there—a gloomy intense figure, bent over the desk at the farther end of the nearly dark studio, his long face, the three little pasteboard bank books before him, the pad on which he was figuring and his thin hands illuminated in the yellow circle from the drop light on the desk. Just behind him on the small table was his typewriter, and there were sheets of paper scattered on the floor. He lifted his face, peered at the Worm through his large glasses, then with nervous quickness threw the bank books into a drawer which he locked. He tore up the top sheet of the pad; noted pencil indentations on the sheet next under it, and tore that up too.
“Hello!” he remarked listlessly.
“Hello!” replied the Worm. Adding with a touch of self-consciousness: “Just had a cup of tea with Sue.”
“Over at her place?”
The Worm nodded.
“Any—any one else there?”
“Zanin came in.”
Peter winced and whitened a little about the mouth; then suddenly got up and with an exaggerated air of casualness set about picking up the papers on the floor. This done he strode to the window and stared out over the Square where hundreds of electric lights twinkled. Suddenly he swung around.