There was nobody around of whom to inquire except a tramp or two asleep on one of the benches, and he did not wish to go near them.  He turned away from the river and walked off through Battery Park till he saw a policeman.

The latter directed him how to go, looking at him pretty sharply.  Rex hurried off, but presently stopped under a lamp post to glance at his watch.  It was a quarter to two.  There was no need to hurry.

But he was afraid to walk slow.  It was very quiet along the water front at this time of night.  He did not want to be “held up” again and lose his watch and what little money he had left.

Here was a man coming toward him now.  But he was drunk.  Rex was not afraid of him.  He was only filled with a shame that sent the color to his cheeks.

Why was Dudley Harrington any better than this reeling sailor?  And Harrington had been his ideal.

He reached the ferry just as a boat went out.  He fell asleep while waiting for the next one.  He was awakened by one of the attendants.  The company evidently did not intend to allow the ferry rooms to be turned into a free lodging house.

The ticket office was not open on the New York side, so Rex just paid his ferriage.  On reaching Jersey City he found that there was to be no train till 6:20 a. m.

He could not sleep in the waiting room.  He walked out in the streets of the city a little distance, but was so tired he could scarcely drag one foot after the other.  He was so sleepy, too, that his eyes kept closing every minute.

Then he was afraid of meeting a footpad.  He did not know where to go.  To hire a room at a hotel would take all his money.  And yet he could not walk the streets all night.

Ah, he was being well punished for all his sins!  And where had been the “good time” for which he had been willing to commit them?

He thought of Roy asleep in his comfortable bed at home.  When should he (Rex) ever be able to feel as cosy in mind as this twin brother of his must?  For even if he did succeed in getting home without something terrible befalling him, there remained his confession to make.

For he must tell everything.  He had made up his mind to that.

But this was in the future.  Meantime the present must be provided for.  He turned and walked back to the ferry.

If he could only lie down somewhere, he thought.

There was a boat just starting out.  He paid his three cents and went aboard.  He fell asleep almost as soon as he touched the seat.  A man came through when they reached New York, woke him up and made him get off.

But he was reckless now.  He walked out to the street, but immediately turned about again, paid another ferriage and walked on the boat, where he instantly fell asleep once more.

And he kept this up till half-past five, when it began to grow light.  Then he went ashore to the station in Jersey City and bought some fruit, which he ate for his breakfast.