There was something in my voice that made them look at me, and they both understood. The next minute they disappeared down a cross street.
CHAPTER XXVII.
A couple of hours later I went down the street with feet that felt so light that they seemed to barely touch the ground.
I had had a long talk with Miss Waters and the poor woman with whom she had been staying, and the former had promised me something.
I was glad to get out of the squalid little tenement parlour, for a man who is used to the fresh air of the sea is always uncomfortable in a close little room. It’s different from a fo’castle. I remember that I stopped once and started to dance a hornpipe on a dark corner nearly opposite the shipping-office. Then, fearing that some one would see me and think me drunk, which I was not, I ceased and looked quickly up and down the street.
The light in the office was still burning as brightly as when I passed there a few hours earlier.
I went along the pavement on the opposite side of the street until I stood directly in front of the building. Suddenly the door opened and a moment afterward the light went out. Then a figure came slowly down the front steps and looked hard at me.
It was Brown, but his face was so distorted with some mental disturbance that I barely recognized him.
He appeared to be suffering keenly, for his cheeks were pale and drawn, and the lines about his mouth showed plainly in the light of the street-lamp.
I had never seen him look so upset, even during the time he was serving with Benson, and I hesitated about joining him.