“Did you foller that trail?” asked Bill Gregg in a chuckling whisper.

“Sure!  Twice to the left, then to the right, and then to the left again.  I know the number of blocks, too.  Ain’t no reason for getting rattled just because a joint is strange to us.  New York may be tolerable big, but it’s got men in it just like we are, and maybe a lot worse kinds.”

As they got out of the little car they saw that the taxi driver had preceded them, carrying their suit cases.  They followed up a steep pitch of stairs to the first floor of the hotel, where the landing had been widened to form a little office.

“Hello, Bert,” said their driver.  “I picked up these gentlemen at Grand Central.  They ain’t wise to the town, so I put ’em next to you.  Fix ’em up here?”

“Sure,” said Bert, lifting a huge bulk of manhood from behind the desk.  He placed his fat hands on the top of it and observed his guests with a smile.  “Ill make you right to home here, friends.  Thank you, Joe!”

Joe grinned, nodded and, receiving his money from Bill Gregg, departed down the stairs, humming.  Their host, in the meantime, had picked up their suit cases and led the way down a hall dimly lighted by two flickering gas jets.  Finally he reached a door and led them into a room where the gas had to be lighted.  It showed them a cheerless apartment in spite of the red of wall paper and carpet.

“Only three bucks,” said the proprietor with the air of one bestowing charity out of the fullness of his heart.  “Bathroom only two doors down.  I guess you can’t beat this layout, gents?”

Bill Gregg glanced once about him and nodded.

“You come up from the South, maybe?” asked the proprietor, lingering at the door.

“West,” said Bill Gregg curtly.

“You don’t say!  Then you boys must be used to your toddy at night, eh?”

“It’s a tolerable dry country out there,” said Ronicky without enthusiasm.

“All the more reason you need some liquor to moisten it up.  Wait till I get you a bottle of rye I got handy.”  And he disappeared in spite of their protests.

“I ain’t a drinking man,” said Gregg, “and I know you ain’t, but it’s sure insulting to turn down a drink in these days!”

Ronicky nodded, and presently the host returned with two glasses, rattling against a tall bottle on a tray.

“Say, when,” he said, filling the glasses and keeping on, in spite of their protests, until each glass was full.

“I guess it looks pretty good to you to see the stuff again,” he said, stepping back and rubbing his hands like one warmed by the consciousness of a good deed.  “It ain’t very plentiful around here.”

“Well,” said Gregg, swinging up his glass, “here’s in your eye, Ronicky, and here’s to you, sir!”

“Wait,” replied Ronicky Doone.  “Hold on a minute, Bill.  Looks to me like you ain’t drinking,” he said to the proprietor.