“Mixing up in this ain’t going to get you anywhere,” the cook said. “You stay out of it.” “I’ll go see him,” Nick said to George. “Where does he live?” The cook turned away. “Little boys always know what they want to do,” he said. “He lives up at Hirsch’s rooming-house,” George said to Nick. “I’ll go up there.” Outside the arc-light shone through the bare branches of a tree. Nick walked up the street beside the car-tracks and turned at the next arc-light down a side-street. Three houses up the street was Hirsch’s rooming-house. Nick walked up the two steps and pushed the bell. A woman came to the door. “Is Ole Andreson here?” “Do you want to see him?” “Yes, if he’s in.” Nick followed the woman up a flight of stairs and back to the end of a corridor. She knocked on the door. “Who is it?” “It’s somebody to see you, Mr. Andreson,” the woman said. “It’s Nick Adams.” “Come in.” Nick opened the door and went into the room. Ole Andreson was lying on the bed with all his clothes on. He had been a heavyweight prizefighter and he was too long for the bed. He lay with his head on two pillows. He did not look at Nick. “What was it?” he asked. “I was up at Henry’s,” Nick said, “and two fellows came in and tied up me and the cook, and they said they were going to kill you.” It sounded silly when he said it. Ole Andreson said nothing. “They put us out in the kitchen,” Nick went on. “They were going to shoot you when you came in to supper.” Ole Andreson looked at the wall and did not say anything. “George thought I better come and tell you about it.” “There isn’t anything I can do about it,” Ole Andreson said. “I’ll tell you what they were like.” “I don’t want to know what they were like,” Ole Andreson said. He looked at the wall. “Thanks for coming to tell me about it.” “That’s all right.” Nick looked at the big man lying on the bed. “Don’t you want me to go and see the police?” “No,” Ole Andreson said. “That wouldn’t do any good.” “Isn’t there something I could do?” “No. There ain’t anything to do.” “Maybe it was just a bluff.” “No. It ain’t just a bluff.” Ole Andreson rolled over toward the wall. “The only thing is,” he said, talking toward the wall, “I just can’t make up my mind to go out. I been in here all day.” “Couldn’t you get out of town?” “No,” Ole Andreson said. “I’m through with all that running around.” He looked at the wall. “There ain’t anything to do now.” “Couldn’t you fix it up some way?” “No. I got in wrong.” He talked in the same flat voice. “There ain’t anything to do. After a while I’ll make up my mind to go out.” “I better go back and see George,” Nick said. “So long,” said Ole Andreson. He did not look toward Nick. “Thanks for coming around.” Nick went out. As he shut the door he saw Ole Andreson with all his clothes on, lying on the bed looking at the wall.