but blinking-eyed cabs came up the avenue,
looking at a distance like a trail
of Megatheriums, gliding through the
darkness. The piercing wind made the
men hasten their steps, the old man by
a semi-rotary motion keeping up with
the longer strides and measured tread of
the younger.

When they reached Fourteenth Street,
the elder said, ``I live but a block from
here,'' pointing eastward; ``what do
you say to a hot toddy? It will warm
the cockles of your heart; come over to
my house and I'll mix you the best
drink in New York.''

The younger thought the suggestion
a good one and they turned toward the
house of old Sanders.

It was a neat, red brick, two-story
house, well in from the street, off the
line of the more pretentious buildings on
either side. As the old man opened the
iron gate, the police officer on the beat
passed; he peered into the faces of the
men, and recognizing Sanders, said,
``tough night, sir.''