Mr. Neal hesitated a moment, realizing that he had been led to reveal his secret to one who might not understand.
Pity came into the old gentleman's eyes.
"Ah," he said, and nodded. "If I could be of any help to you—Would you come in?"
"Didn't he come in here, really? Hasn't a tall man been here?"
"Nobody is here, sir, but us. But if I could do anything for you, I'd be glad to."
Mr. Neal saw that the old gentleman thought he was dealing with a demented man; he saw, too, that the denial was an honest one.
"Thank you," said Mr. Neal. "No. I must be going. I am very sorry I troubled you."
The old man bade him a cheery good-night, but he looked after Mr. Neal in solicitude as the clerk went slowly down the steps.
The air was bitter cold outside, and Mr. Neal realized for the first time that he did not have his overcoat. He shivered.
Hunching his shoulders up against the blast, he hurried back to the subway.