When, having completed the circuit of the long block, they drew up before the Brevard House again, Hickey said anxiously: "Well?" "It's a go," said Greg curtly. A little sigh escaped the other. "Where'll we change?" "In the car," said Greg. "Ain't room enough," hastily objected Hickey. "If we're going to change we can't dress one at a time or the other would have to stop outside naked." "Well, I suppose we could get a room in this hotel." "And let Nosey the bar-tender in on our business? No, sir! I tell you. Let's go down behind the hogsheads." Below, along the deserted waterfront, were great piles of heavy freight which had overflowed from the pier-sheds. Here there were many secluded nooks suitable for their purpose. Letting the taxi stand in the roadway outside, the change of their outer clothing was soon effected. Greg handed over money, baggage checks and receipt for the deposit money; receiving in return the license cards and bill of sale. "Don't forget you're Elmer Fishback to the inspectors," said Hickey. In the light of an electric lamp overhead he strutted up and down the aisle between the rows of hogsheads, swinging Greg's stick and "getting the feel of his clothes" he said. They were several sizes too big for him by the way, but he seemed not to be aware of that. "Well, come on," said Greg. "Hop in, and I'll drive you up to the _Savoia_ in style." His hand instinctively went to the door handle as he spoke. Hickey hastily pushed it aside. "Oh Hell, I'll ride on the front seat with you," he said. "I ain't proud." Greg ran her back to the Brevard Line pier. Many cabs were arriving now bringing luxurious parties direct from the theaters and restaurants. Greg took his place in the slow-moving line and in due course reached the first cabin gangway. Hickey hopped off, and hooking the stick over his arm, squared his meager shoulders with a swagger. "Well ta-ta, old chap," he said in a throaty voice; "I'll write you from dear old Lunnon." "By-by," said Greg, biting his lip. He was sorry he had to miss the comedy that would be played out on the _Savoia's_ promenade deck during the next five days. The cabs pressing behind forced Greg to move on. Turning on the pier, he hastened away back to the town. As he went he endeavored to take stock of his sensations, but without much success; they were rather confused. Here he was a taxi-driver on his own cab, looking for a fare, he told himself, but without quite believing it. The change had been too sudden. He couldn't quite rid himself of the feeling that he would wake up presently. He didn't feel like a taxi-driver inside. The whole thing seemed a bit unreal. He had an absurd feeling that the dark-windowed houses were racing past waving their stoops at him, while he sat still in the middle of the road.