On their way, they came to the gilt sign of the umbrellas. “I must leave these here,” said Loring. Radlett tactfully waited outside, while Stephen entered and deposited the results of his collection. The proprietor, who, when released from Stephen’s winning conversation, had begun to feel rather worried, was surprised and delighted at the success of the mission. He opened the cash drawer, and handed to Stephen a silver dollar. Stephen wrote down the addresses of the umbrella owners, then with his new earned dollar clinking lovingly against the keys in his pocket, he rejoined Radlett. They walked briskly to the hotel where Radlett was staying, and stepping into the smoking room, were soon comfortably ensconced in two big leather armchairs, placed in an out-of-the-way corner of the room. CHAPTER XIII Radlett pounded upon the nickel bell on the smoking table, and ordered two cigars. Stephen bit the end of his cigar hastily, while Radlett produced a clipper from his pocket, and carefully cut the end of his. These unconscious actions portrayed well the differences in their characters. Drawing a match from the white earthenware holder, Baird scratched it on the rough surface, and then held the light to Stephen’s cigar. “Mine is lighted, thank you, Baird,” said Loring, and through blue circles of smoke he watched Radlett light his own cigar. “I had almost forgotten what a stocky old brute Baird was,” he mused. “I do not think, though, that I could ever forget that dear old face. Of all the faces that I ever knew his is the homeliest, and the kindest! If he poked that long jaw of his out at me, and looked at me with those honest eyes, he might tell me that black was white, and I should fight the man who said that it was not true.” Radlett also utilized those first moments of silence brought about by a good cigar, an old friend, and a comfortable chair, to make a few observations of his own. “In five years, Steve has changed a great deal,” he thought. “Five years of failure, and drifting, such as I judge these to have been, leave their mark on any man, definitely and indefinitely. Imagine Loring, the fastidious, in those clothes five years ago! And then the old frank manner has become a bit hesitant. He seems always on the defensive. Poor old chap, he must have had some pretty hard blows. The old light in his eyes is no longer there; but after all he has that same quality of winning appeal, of humor and of latent strength, which nothing can obliterate, which always has made and always will make every one who knows him hope for the best, and pardon the worst.” At the conclusion of his reflections, Baird’s eyes were damp. Stephen smoked slowly, as one would sip a rare old wine. Then, taking the cigar from his mouth, he held it before his eyes, twirling the label slowly around, and looking at it appreciatively.