Fred assented indifferently.  He was very tired and all he longed for was a chance to sleep.

In less than fifteen minutes after his release Fred Starratt found himself alone in the narrow impersonal room where Hilmer’s emissary had installed him.  He did not wait to undress—­he threw himself upon the bed and slept until midnight.

* * * * *

He awoke startled and unrefreshed.  A newsboy just under his window was calling the morning papers with monotonous stridency.  Fred jumped to his feet and peered out.  People drifted by on the homeward stretch in little pattering groups—­actors, chorus girls, waiters, and melancholy bartenders.  The usual night wind had died ... it had grown warmer.  He turned toward his bed again.  The walls of the room seemed suddenly to contract.  He had a desire to get out into the open...  He freshened up and felt better.

He did not wait for the elevator, but walked down the dim stairway to the narrow hotel lobby, flooded by a white, searching light.  For a moment he stood in curious confusion at the foot of the stairs that had so suddenly spewed him from half-light to glare, his eyes blinking aimlessly.  At that moment he saw a familiar figure rising from one of the morris chairs near the plate-glass window.  He stared—­it was the private detective who had hounded him all day Saturday.  Slowly he retraced his steps and found his way back to his room again...  No doubt Brauer, fearful lest his victim would escape before he arranged the proper warrants for arrest, had been responsible for this man’s presence in the first instance, but who was hiring him now?...  Hilmer?...  Well, why not?  Surely a man who risked bail money was justified in seeing that the object of his charity kept faith...  Fred Starratt sat down and laughed unpleasantly.  What a contempt everybody must have for him!  What a contempt he had for himself!  He threw himself sprawling his full length upon the rumpled bed.  But this time it was not to sleep.  Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and puffed cigarette after cigarette until morning flooded the room...  At eight o’clock he phoned down to have his breakfast sent up.

* * * * *

Toward noon Watson came in.  “I saw Brauer yesterday and again this morning...  What did you do to make him so sore?”

Fred shrugged.  “I guess I took a superior air...  A man who plays up his honesty is always nasty...  I meant well—­most fools do!”

Watson stared uncomprehendingly.  “The best thing I can get this man Brauer to agree to is a compromise...  He’s eager for his pound of flesh.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wants to punish you ... even the score some way...  After I saw him yesterday I went out and talked to Hilmer...  We outlined a plan that Brauer is willing to accept.  Hilmer has a pull, you know ... and if the scheme goes through there’ll be no trial, no notoriety, nothing disagreeable...  We’ll make it plain to the authorities that you gave out this check when you were drunk.  Habitual intemperance ... that’s to be our plea...  It means a few months for you at the state’s Home for Inebriates ... a bit of a rest, really...  I’d say you were extremely lucky.”