Across the earth a tempest had been loosed; but Ariel did not ride
it, Caliban did. The scythe of terror was harvesting a type; and the
innocent were bending with the guilty.

Suddenly Hawksley felt young, revivified, free. He had arrived.
Surmounting indescribable hazards and hardships he walked the pavement
of New York. In an hour the mutable quicksands of a great city would
swallow him forever. Free! He wanted to stroll about, peer into shop
windows, watch the amazing electric signs, dally; but he still had much
to accomplish.

He searched for a telephone sign. It was necessary that he find one
immediately. He had once spent six weeks in and about this marvellous
city, and he had a vague recollection of the blue-and-white enamel
signs. Shortly he found one. It was a pay station in the rear of a news
and tobacco shop.

He entered a booth, but discovered that he had no five-cent pieces in
his purse. He hurried out to the girl behind the cigar stand. She was
exhibiting a box of cigars to a customer, who selected three, paid for
them, and walked away. Hawksley, boiling with haste to have his affair
done, flung a silver coin toward the girl.

"Five-cent pieces!"

"Will you take them with you or shall I send them?" asked the girl,
earnestly.

"I beg pardon!"

"Any particular kind of ribbon you want the box tied with?"