"I know that he--I asked you if you knew of his whereabouts. Do you--or not?" The self-confident, athletic youth did not stand in physical awe of the clerk. "No," was the simple and sufficient answer. "Well then--I'm off," said Graydon a trifle less airily. Droom's overcoat was on and buttoned up to his chin; his long feet were encased in rubbers of enormous size and uncertain age. There must have been no blood in the veins of this grim old man, for the weather was far from cold and the streets were surprisingly dry for Chicago. "I am closing the office for the day," said Droom. For no apparent reason a smile spread over the lower part of his face and Graydon, bold as he was, turned his eyes away. "I thought I'd stop in and pick up the governor for a ride home in my motor," said he, turning to the door. "Yours is one of the first out here, I suppose," came from the thin lips of the old clerk. Graydon laughed. "Possibly. The company charges a nickel a ride--half a dime--Going down, sir?" Graydon had rung for the elevator and was waiting in front of the grating. A look containing a curious compound of affectionate reproach and a certain senile gratification at being made the object of the boy's condescending raillery crossed Droom's countenance. Without, however, answering his question, he slowly and carefully closed the door, tried it vigorously, and joined Bansemer at the shaft. With Droom, words were unnecessary when actions could speak for themselves. "Still living over in Wells Street, Mr. Droom?" went on Graydon, thoroughly at home with the man whom he had feared and despised by stages from childhood up. "It's good enough for me," said Droom shortly. "'Tisn't Michigan Avenue, the Drive or Lincoln Park Boulevard, but it's just as swell as I am--or ever hope to be." "There's nothing against Wells Street but--it got ashamed of itself when it crossed the river." "They call it Fifth Avenue," sneered Droom, "but it isn't THE Avenue, is it?" Bansemer was surprised to note a tone of affectionate pride in the question. "No indeed!" "Oh, there's only one, Mr. Graydon," said the old clerk, quite warmly; "our own Fifth Avenue." "I had no idea you cared so much for swagger things, Mr. Droom," observed the other, genuinely surprised. "Even Broadway is heaven to me," said Droom, some of the rasp gone from his voice. "Good-bye; I go this way," he said when they reached the sidewalk a little later. The young man watched his gaunt figure as it slouched away in the semi-darkness. "By George, the old chap is actually homesick!" muttered he. "I didn't think it was in him."