Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-07-24
CHAPTER XIII.
Sh a dowS

The night was warm for November in
New York: still. there was a decided
crispness in the air which Loveland felt
as he went out.
The streets were brilliant with light.
and half New York appeared to be
abroad, although the theaters had been
in full swing for nearly an hour. But all
the women wore cloaks. and the men
overcoats. Loveland. in his dinner jacket
and wide expanse of shirt front, his
pumps and silk stockings. his cloth travel
ing cap pulled over his eyes would have
been noticeable even II his height and
good looks had not made him marked
figure. Everybody who passed stared.
and more than a few glanced back at
him. Here and there some pretty woman
laughed at a joking comment whispered
by her escort: and when his first hot
rage began to cool 1t was uncomfOrtably
borne in upon Loveland that he was the
observed of many observers.
Like most Engiishmen. lie loathed being
conspicuous, and In his present plight it
was especially hateful, since being con-
spicuous meant also to be ridiculous.
His ears, shut by anger. were opened
by vanity. and he heard a woman sa! TO
a man that he Cooked as If he'd just
been turned down by his best GIRL And
kicked out by pa added her companion;
at which they both giggled, and the tin
Cling In Loveland's veins drove out the
chill which had begun to creep in.
He longed to call a cab and hide himself
from staring eyes. but he had scarcely a
shilling left. There was nothing to do
but walk on, until he found some hotel
which would take him in on trust. AS his
brain cooled he began to realize that it
might be difficult to find any such hotel.
Here he was. on winters night. for
eigner in a strange city. walking the
streets without an Overcoat, and with
only coin or two in his pocket. He re-
membered that. in the afternoon, when
dealing out visiting cards and letters OF
introduction. he had slipped his card case
into a pocket of his Overcoat, where it
still remained. That ove-coat remained
in one of the rooms lately his at the Wal
dorf-Astor!a. What fool he had been
after all to leave it behind. The watcher
could hardly have torn 1t off his back.
AS it was, whim of silly pride had de-
prived him of a means of Identification.
es well as a decent protection for his
body.
why should a hotel keeper consent to
take him in. without luggage and with
nothing save his bare word-not even a
bit OF engraved pasteboard-to prove that
he was the Marquis of Loveland? He
had never put himself mentally in the
place of anything so low down in the So
cial scale as the keeper of hotel; yet
instinctively he performed the feat now
and judged the case against his own in
terestS
Nevertheless. as he did not wish to
prowl about New York all night he could
but try his luck. Meeting a policeman.
he inquired for q respectable. inexpensive
hotel in quiet street. not too far away:
and did his best to look unconscious of
the big mans concentrated gaze fixed on
the large white oval Of his shirt front
"Yez might try the New House, on
Toyty They'd street." was the advice that
followed upon reflection; and Loveland
was obliged to ask three times before he
was able to translate 'Toyty They'd into