Mel Iden! The name seemed a part of the past. This was only another dream, thought Lane, and slowly fell back upon his bed.
"Say, aren't you able to sit up?" queried this visitor Lane took for the spectre of a dream. He advanced into the room. He grasped Lane with firm hand. And then Lane realized this was no nightmare. He began to shake.
"Sit up?" he echoed, vaguely. "Sure I can.... You're Mel's father?"
"Yes," replied the other. "Come, get out of this.... Well, you haven't much dressing to do. And that's good.... Steady there."
As he rose, Lane would have fallen but for a quick move of Iden's.
"Only shoes and coat," said Lane, fumbling around. "They're somewhere."
"Here you are.... Let me help.... There. Have you an overcoat?"
"No," replied Lane.
"Well, there's a robe in the taxi. Come on now. I'll come back and pack your belongings."
He put an arm under Lane's and led him out into the hall and down the dim stairway to the street. Under the yellow light Lane saw a cab, toward which Iden urged him. Lane knew that he moved, but he seemed not to have any feeling in his legs. The cabman put a hand back to open the door.