"Your brother will sleep with you?" inquired the clerk.

"Yes."

"That's right--if you are sure you can tell which is which in the
morning," said the clerk, with a smile at his poor joke.

Henry smiled in return, paid the bill, took the key, and we were shown
to our room. After removing the travel-stains, I declared myself quite
ready to dine.

"We won't need this again," said Henry, tossing the key on the bureau
as we left. "Or no, on second thought," he continued, "it's just as
well to leave the door locked. There might be some inquisitive
callers." And we betook ourselves to a hasty meal that was not of a
nature to raise my opinion of San Francisco.

"Are you through?" asked my companion, as I shook my head over a
melancholy piece of pie, and laid down my fork. "Well, take your bag.
This door--look pleasant and say nothing."

He led the way to the bar and then through a back room or two, until
with a turn we were in a blind alley. With a few more steps we found
ourselves in a back hall which led into another building. I became
confused after a little, and lost all idea of the direction in which we
were going. We mounted one flight of stairs, I remember, and after
passing through two or three winding hallways and down another flight,
came out on a side street.

After a pause to observe the street before we ventured forth, Henry