But there were no papers, no keys, only a cheque-book and a wallet
packed with new banknotes and some foreign gold and silver. Brown
merely read the name written in the new cheque-book but did not take
it or the money.

Then, his business with McKay being finished, he went out, paid the
reckoning, tipped the waiter generously, and said:

"My friend wants to sleep for half an hour. Let him alone until I
come back for him."

Brown had been gone only a few moments when McKay lifted his head
from his arms with a jerk, looked around him blindly, got to his
feet and appeared in the cafe doorway, swaying on unsteady legs.

"Gotta see the Major!" he said thickly. "'M'not qui' well. Gotta--"

The waiter attempted to quiet him, but McKay continued on toward the
door, muttering that he had to find the Major and that he was not
feeling well.

They let him go out into the freezing darkness. Between the saloon
and the Plaza Circle he fell twice on the ice, but contrived to find
his feet again and lurch on through the deserted street and square.

The black cold that held the city in its iron grip had driven men
and vehicles from the streets. On Fifth Avenue scarcely a moving
light was to be seen; under the fuel-conservation order, club, hotel
and private mansion were unlighted at that hour. The vast marble
mass of the Plaza Hotel loomed enormous against the sky; the New