“From the benches in Madison Square,” replied Norman.  He laughed queerly.  “Recognize yourself in any of those mugs, Tetlow?” he asked.

Tetlow shivered.  “I should say not!” he exclaimed.

Norman’s eyes gleamed.  “I see myself in all of ’em,” said he.

“Poor wretches!” muttered Tetlow.

“Pity wasted,” he rejoined.  “You might feel sorry for a man on the way to where they’ve got.  But once arrived—­as well pity a dead man sleeping quietly in his box with three feet of solid earth between him and worries of every kind.”

“Shake this crowd,” said Tetlow impatiently.  “I want to talk with you.”

“All right, if it bores you.”  He sent the waiter out for enough lodging-house tickets to provide for all.  He distributed them himself, to make sure that the proprietor of the restaurant did not attempt to graft.  Then he roused Gaskill and bundled him into the car and sent it away to his address.  The tramps gathered round and gave Norman three cheers—­they pressed close while four of them tried to pick his and Tetlow’s pockets.  Norman knocked them away good-naturedly, and he and Tetlow climbed into Tetlow’s hansom.

“To my place,” suggested Tetlow.

“No, to mine—­the Knickerbocker,” replied Norman.

“I’d rather you went to my place first,” said Tetlow uneasily.

“My wife isn’t with me.  She has left me,” said Norman calmly.

Tetlow hesitated, extremely nervous, finally acquiesced.  They drove a while in silence, then Norman said, “What’s the business?”

“Galloway wants to see you.”

“Tell him to come to my office to-morrow—­that means to-day—­at any time after eleven.”

“But that gives you no chance to pull yourself together,” objected Tetlow.

Norman’s face, seen in the light of the street lamp they happened to be passing, showed ironic amusement.  “Never mind about me, Billy.  Tell him to come.”

Tetlow cleared his throat nervously.  “Don’t you think, old man, that you’d better go to see him?  I’ll arrange the appointment.”

Norman said quietly:  “Tetlow, I’ve dropped pretty far.  But not so far that I go to my clients.  The rule of calls is that the man seeking the favor goes to the man who can grant it.”

“But it isn’t the custom nowadays for a lawyer to deal that way with a man like Galloway.”

“And neither is it the custom for anyone to have any self-respect.  Does Galloway need my brains more than I need his money, or do I need his money more than he needs my brains?  You know what the answer to that is, Billy.  We are partners—­you and I. I’m training you for the position.”

“Galloway won’t come,” said Tetlow curtly.

“So much the worse for him,” retorted Norman placidly.  “No—­I’ve not been drinking too much, old man—­as your worried—­old-maid look suggests.  Do a little thinking.  If Galloway doesn’t get me, whom will he get?”