coat. And his lodgings were becoming a horror to him; the
landlady's cat had already killed two enormous rats In the hallway;
also cabbage had been cooked in the kitchen that day. Which left
him no other choice than to go out again and take more air.

Before midnight he had no longer any coin in his pockets, and he
was not drunk yet. The situation seemed hopeless, and he found a
policeman and inquired politely for the nearest recruiting station;
but when he got there the station was closed, and his kicks on the
door brought nobody but a prowling Bowery b'hoy, sullenly in quest
of single combat. So Berkley, being at leisure, accommodated him,
picked him up, propped him limply against a doorway, resumed his
own hat and coat, and walked thoughtfully and unsteadily homeward,
where he slept like an infant in spite of rats, cabbage, and a
swollen lip.

Next day, however, matters were less cheerful. He had expected to
realise a little money out of his last salable trinket--a diamond
he had once taken for a debt. But it seemed that the stone
couldn't pass muster, and he bestowed it upon Burgess, breakfasted
on coffee and sour bread, and sauntered downtown quite undisturbed
in the brilliant April sunshine.

However, the prospect of a small commission from Craig & Son buoyed
up his natural cheerfulness. All the way downtown he nourished his
cane; he hummed lively tunes in his office as he studied his maps
and carefully read the real estate reports in the daily papers; and
then he wrote another of the letters which he never mailed,
strolled out to Stephen's desk for a little gossip, reported
himself to Mr. Craig, and finally sallied forth to execute that