He clambered down and took the same general course as Hunt had taken, deflecting, however, to enter a little door made like a window-blind, that failed to reach its own door-sill. "Hunt didn't go there at all," Caroline muttered resentfully, and deliberately opening the door of the brougham, she stepped out. She had followed Hunt's track quite accurately till a sudden turn confused her, and she realized that after that corner she had no idea in which direction he had gone. She paused uncertainly; the street was dirty, the few children in sight were playing a game unknown to her and not playing very pleasantly, at that; the women who looked at her seemed more curious than kindly. The atmosphere was not sordid enough to be alarming or even interesting; it was merely slovenly and distasteful, and Caroline had almost decided to go back when a young girl stopped by her and eyed her inquisitively. "Were you lookin' for any particular party?" she asked. "I was looking for Hunt," said Caroline, "he went this way, I think." "There's some Hunts across the street there," the girl suggested, "right hand flat, second floor. I seen the name once. I guess you're lost all right, ain't you?" "Oh, no," Caroline assured her, "I'm not lost. I can go right back. I'll see if Hunt's there." The threshold was greasy and worn, the stairs covered with faded oil cloth, the side walls defaced and over-scrawled. At the head of the stairs three dingy doors opened in three different directions, and a soiled card on the middle one bore the name of Hunt. A man's voice somewhere behind it talked in a strange loud sing-song; he seemed to be telling a long, confusing story. At the moment of Caroline's timid knock he was saying over and over again, "Isn't that so? Isn't that so? Who wouldn't have done the same? Put your finger on the place where I made the mistake! Will you? Will anybody? I ask it as a favor--" "Hush, won't you?" a woman's voice interrupted, "wasn't that a knock?" Caroline knocked again. There was a hasty shuffling and a key turned in the door. "Who is it?" the woman's voice asked. "What do you want? The auction's all over--there's nothing left. We're moving out to-morrow." Surprise held Caroline dumb. How could one have an auction in such a place? At auctions there were red flags, and horses and carriages gathered around the house, and people brought luncheon; they had often driven to auctions out in the country. The door opened. "Why it's only a child!" said the woman, thin and fatigued, with dark rings under her not ungentle eyes. "What do you want here?" "I'm looking for Hunt," Caroline answered, "doesn't he live here?" "Heavens, no!" the woman said, "that old card's been there long before we moved in, I guess. They were old renters, most likely. What's the party to you, anyway? Is he your--" She paused, studying Caroline's simple but unmistakeable clothes and manner.