From the point of view of literature this might be great stuff; but on the corner of Broadway and Fifth Street at the crowded hours it was unusual, to say the least.  My companion was entering into the spirit of it in a most alarming way; he was half chanting, his voice rising, his face lighting up. “’Thy men shall fall by the sword, and thy mighty in the war.  And her gates shall lament and mourn; and she being desolate shall sit upon the ground.’”

“Be careful!” I whispered.  “People will hear you!”

“But why should they not?” He turned on me a look of surprise.  “The people hear me gladly.”  And he added:  “The common people.”

Here was an aspect of my adventure which had not occurred to me before.  “My God!” I thought.  “If he takes to preaching on street corners!” I realized in a flash—­it was exactly what he would be up to!  A panic seized me; I couldn’t stand that; I’d have to cut and run!

I began to speak quickly.  “We must get across this street while we have time; the traffic officer has turned the right way now.”  And I began explaining our remarkable system of traffic handling.

But he stopped me in the middle.  “Why do we wish to cross the street, when we have no place to go?”

“I have a place I wish to take you to,” I said; “a friend I want you to meet.  Let us cross.  “And while I was guiding him between the automobiles, I was desperately trying to think how to back up my lie.  Who was there that would receive this incredible stranger, and put him up for the night, and get him into proper clothes, and keep him off the soap-box?

Truly, I was in an extraordinary position!  What had I done to get this stranger wished onto me?  And how long was he going to stay with me?  I found myself recalling the plight of Mary who had a little lamb!

Fate had me in its hands, and did not mean to consult me.  We had gone less than a block further when I heard a voice, “Hello!  Billy!” I turned.  Oh, Lord!  Oh, Lord!  Of all the thankless encounters—­Edgerton Rosythe, moving picture critic of the Western City “Times.”  Precisely the most cynical, the most profane, the most boisterous person in a cynical and profane and boisterous business!  And he had me here, in full daylight, with a figure just out of a stained glass window in St. Bartholomew’s Church!

VII

“Hello, Billy!  Who’s your good-looking friend?” Rosythe was in full sail before a breeze of his own making.

How could I answer.  “Why—­er—­”

The stranger spoke.  “They call me Carpenter.”

“Ah!” said the critic.  “Mr. Carpenter, delighted to meet you.”  He gave the stranger a hearty grip of the hand.  “Are you on location?”

“Location?” said the other; and Rosythe shot an arrow of laughter towards me.  Perhaps he knew about the vagaries of my Aunt Caroline; anyhow, he would have a fantastic tale to tell about me, and was going to exploit it to the limit!