As we waited for that bill I was as uncomfortable as if I had to pay it. Suppose I couldn’t escape and he followed me home? Babbitts would be like the mad elephant in the Zoo, and from what I knew of Tony Ford he might draw a pistol and make me a widow. "Have you enjoyed your dinner, little one?" said he, soft and slushy. "Fine!" I answered, pulling my coat off the chair back. "We’ve got to be good friends, haven’t we?" "Pals," I said. "Don’t you think we know each other well enough for you to tell me your name?" "They say there’s a great charm about the unknown," I answered. "And I want to be as charming as it’s possible with the restrictions nature’s put upon me." "You don’t need any extra trimmings," said he. "You might as well tell me, for I can always find out at the Black Eagle Building." Could he? I was Miss Morgenthau there, and today was positively my last appearance. If I could get away from him now I was safe from his ever finding me. The waiter brought the bill with murmurings that it was to be paid at the desk. We rose, Mr. Ford feeling in his pocket, the waiter trying to look listless, as if money was no treat to him. I moved across the room and reconnoitered. The desk, with a fat gray-haired woman sitting behind it, was close by the door that led into the hall. Several people were out there putting on coats and hats and jabbering together in a foreign lingo. I sauntered carelessly through the doorway, seeing, out of the tail of my eye, Mr. Ford put down a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. The gray-haired woman began to pull out little drawers and make change. One of the people in the hall opened the front door and they began filing out. I went with them, slow on their heels at first, then fast, dodging between them, then like a streak down the steps to the sidewalk and up the street. It was an awful place to hide in—all lights and show windows; a fish might as well try to conceal itself in a parlor aquarium. There wasn’t a niche that you could have squeezed a cat into and I _had_ to get somewhere. Suddenly I saw a narrow flight of stairs with a large set of teeth hanging over them and up that I went, stumbling on my skirt till I reached a landing and flattened back against the dentist’s door. It was locked or I would have gone in, so scared I was of that man—gone in, and if the price of concealment had been a set of false teeth I make no doubt I’d have ordered them. [Illustration: _It was locked or I would have gone in._] After a while I ventured down, took a look out and stole away, dodging along dark side streets and round corners with my muff up against my face, till I struck a cab stand. Not a word came out of me till I was safe inside a taxi, and then I almost whispered my address to the chauffeur.