It must have been thick weather on the river and along the docks, for
the deep fog-horns sounded persistently over the city, and the haunted
warning of the sirens filled the leaden sky lowering through the white
veil descending in flakes that melted where they fell.
And, as Lansing strode on, hands deep in his overcoat, more than one
mystery was unravelling before his keen eyes that blinked and winked as
the clinging snow blotted his vision.
Now he began to understand something of the strange effacement of his
friend Selwyn; he began to comprehend the curious economies practised,
the continued absence from club and coterie, the choice of the sordid
lodging whither Boots, one night, seeing him on the street by chance,
had shamelessly tracked him--with no excuse for the intrusion save his
affection for this man and his secret doubts of the man's ability to
take care of himself and his occult affairs.
Now he was going there, exactly what to do he did not yet know, but with
the vague determination to do something.
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