in the afternoon, had no need to inspect these houses one by one or to compare their numbers with the address given him by McAdams. He turned into one of them with an air of proprietorship.
This house was even more dismal than the rest, the sign in its window older, more faded, less hospitable in its invitation. On one side, only the difference in the color of its brick divided it from its neighbor; on the other a cement walk less than three feet wide led, tunnel-like, between the two brick walls back to the rear. Max had engaged and paid for a room there in the afternoon, arranging to return that evening with his luggage. He stopped now in the cheerless and stuffy-smelling parlor to announce to the landlady that his luggage was still delayed; and as he
