The coincidence puzzled him; but by the time he had read the
morning papers he had forgotten about it, and it was not until he
had emerged into the street that it was forcibly recalled. The
street was crowded with people; and as Philip stepped in among
them, It was as though every one at whom he looked began to talk
aloud. Their lips did not move, nor did any sound issue from
between them; but, without ceasing, broken phrases of thoughts
came to him as clearly as when, in passing in a crowd, snatches
of talk are carried to the ears. One man thought of his debts;
another of the weather, and of what disaster it might bring to
his silk hat; another planned his luncheon; another was rejoicing
over a telegram he had but that moment received. To himself he
kept repeating the words of the telegram--"No need to come, out
of danger." To Philip the message came as clearly as though he
were reading it from the folded slip of paper that the stranger
clutched in his hand.

Confused and somewhat frightened, and in order that undisturbed
he might consider what had befallen him, Philip sought refuge
from the crowded street in the hallway of a building. His first
thought was that for some unaccountable cause his brain for the
moment was playing tricks with him, and he was inventing the
phrases he seemed to hear, that he was attributing thoughts to
others of which they were entirely innocent. But, whatever it was
that had befallen him, he knew it was imperative that he should
at once get at the meaning of it.

The hallway in which he stood opened from Bond Street up a flight
of stairs to the studio of a fashionable photographer, and
directly in front of the hallway a young woman of charming