The taxi turned around, shot down Park Avenue, darted aside into the
darker streets to the east of the district and came suddenly to a
halt.

"Did you foller that trail?" asked Bill Gregg in a chuckling whisper.

"Sure! Twice to the left, then to the right, and then to the left
again. I know the number of blocks, too. Ain't no reason for getting
rattled just because a joint is strange to us. New York may be
tolerable big, but it's got men in it just like we are, and maybe a
lot worse kinds."

As they got out of the little car they saw that the taxi driver had
preceded them, carrying their suit cases. They followed up a steep
pitch of stairs to the first floor of the hotel, where the landing had
been widened to form a little office.

"Hello, Bert," said their driver. "I picked up these gentlemen at
Grand Central. They ain't wise to the town, so I put 'em next to you.
Fix 'em up here?"

"Sure," said Bert, lifting a huge bulk of manhood from behind the
desk. He placed his fat hands on the top of it and observed his guests
with a smile. "Ill make you right to home here, friends. Thank you,
Joe!"

Joe grinned, nodded and, receiving his money from Bill Gregg, departed
down the stairs, humming. Their host, in the meantime, had picked up
their suit cases and led the way down a hall dimly lighted by two