individualism except in moments of peril, when stark necessity
compelled them to social action. Otherwise it was every man for
himself. Yes, it was natural enough. He _was_ a stranger to these
people. Except for the color of his skin, he was no more to them than
a Hindoo or a Japanese. And doubtless the grotesque disarrangement of
his features appalled them. How could they discern behind that
caricature of a face the human desire for friendliness, the ache of a
bruised spirit?

He deliberately clamped down the lid upon such reflections and
bethought himself of the business which brought him along the street.
Turning off the main thoroughfare, he passed half a block along a
cross street and entered an office building. Ascending to the fourth
floor, he entered an elaborate suite of offices which bore upon the
ground glass of the entrance door this legend:

LEWIS AND COMPANY

SPECIALISTS IN B.C. TIMBER. INVESTMENTS

He inquired for Mr. Lewis, gave his card to a young woman who glanced
at him once and thereafter looked anywhere but at him while he spoke.
After a minute of waiting he was ushered into a private office. As he
neared this door, Hollister happened to catch a panoramic glimpse in a
wall mirror. The eyes of half a dozen clerks and other persons in that
room, both male and female, were fixed on him with the shocked and
eager curiosity he had once observed upon the faces of a crowd
gathered about the mangled victim of a street accident.

Mr. Lewis was a robust man, a few years older than Hollister. The