On my way to the City Hotel, where I had resolved to await like a man
what calamity there might be, I again passed the barber-shop.

Harpin Cust now leaned, gracefully attentive, on the back of the empty
chair, absently swishing his little whisk broom. Before him was planted
Potts, his left foot advanced, his head thrown back, reading to Harpin
from a spread page of the _Argus_. I divined that he was reading Solon's
comment upon himself, and I shuddered.

As I paused at the door of the hotel Potts emerged from the barber-shop.
In one hand he carried his bag, in the other his cane and the _Little
Arcady Argus_. His hat was a bit to one side, and it seemed to me
that he was leaning back farther than usual. He had started briskly down
the street in the opposite direction from me, but halted on meeting
Eustace Eubanks. The Colonel put down his bag and they shook hands.
Eustace seemed eager to pass on, but the Colonel detained him and began
reading from the _Argus_. His voice carried well on the morning air, and
various phrases, to which he gave the full meed of emphasis, floated to
me on the gentle breeze. "That peerless pleader and Prince of
Gentlemen," came crisply to my ears. Eustace appeared to be restive, but
the Colonel, through caution, or, perhaps, mere friendliness, had moored
him by a coat lapel.

The reading done, I saw that Eustace declined some urgent request of the
Colonel's, drawing away the moment his coat was released. As they
parted, my worst fears were confirmed, for I saw the Colonel progress
flourishingly to the corner and turn in under the sign, "Barney Skeyhan;
Choice Wines, Liquors, and Cigars."