“Your brass,” he said, still more bewildered. “That is, of course, your temporary number until the Council assigns you to your proper place in the community. It means, as you must be aware, Stranger of the Sixth District. My unofficial name is David. What is yours, friend?”
He almost jumped when I told him, and glanced nervously about him. We had just passed through the doorway, and he drew me to one side, looking at me in a most peculiar manner.
“You must know only one name is legal in this Province,” he whispered. “Surely you will not hazard everything by such bravado. I mean—”
He checked himself and searched my eyes, as if he could not understand whether my ignorance was assumed or real.
“Arnold,” he said suddenly, as if he had reached a swift and hazardous decision, “you are to be my private guest. If you are assuming ignorance for safety, you shall learn that there is nothing to fear from me. And when you trust me, you shall give me the news of Paul and all our friends. If you are actually a Spaniard—no, tell me nothing—it is essential that you should learn what all our inmates know, before you go to the Council. Doctor Sanson is not tolerant of strangers unless they learn to conform.... I shall help you in every way that is possible. The Bureau Head has asked me to watch you carefully. It is a special order from headquarters. There is some rumor about you ... but it will be all right in my own apartment.”
I felt too heartbroken more than to thank him briefly. The sense of my isolation in this new world swept over me with poignant power. David must have guessed something of my feeling, for he said nothing more. We halted for a moment at the entrance to the building, and he pulled a watch from his pocket. I saw that the dial, which was not faced with glass, and had the hands inset, was divided into ten main sections, each comprising ten smaller ones.
“Ten hours and seventy-four,” he said. “We dine at one-fifty. Seventy-six minutes to get home.”
CHAPTER VI
THE STRANGERS’ HOUSE
During my brief journeys through the streets earlier in the day I had been too conscious of my surprise and perplexity to examine my surroundings with any concentration of mind. Now, standing on the middle platform of what seemed to be one of the principal streets and traveled at a speed of about eight miles an hour, I looked about me with increasing astonishment. I do not know which attracted my attention more, the crowds or the buildings. I asked David for information as we proceeded, stating that I was unable to read the signs, as I was acquainted only with the old alphabet. Seeing his incredulity, I added:
“When you are willing, I shall be glad to tell you my history, though I shall hardly hope to be believed. For the present, let me say that I know nothing at all of your modern civilization.”