Just beyond I stepped out into the cross-street and paused. Left or right? Left, of course.

The clammy yellow fog stuck closer than a brother. On my feet I wore patent leather shoes, recently purchased on my return to human society in Shanghai. Their soles were almost as they had been when I left the shop, and I slipped and skidded unmercifully on the damp sidewalk. A small matter-but one that somehow filled me with a feeling of helplessness and rage. What a spectacle I must present! Served me right, though. I had no business at Henry Drew's confounded party.

As best I could, I hurried on, staring at the house-fronts. But their owners couldn't have told them apart in the mist. My search was hopeless. I had given up and was standing beneath a street lamp when I heard footsteps.

Debonairly out of the fog walked Parker, the ship's doctor, humming a tune as he walked. He stopped and stared at me. A fine sight I must have been, too-wild-eyed, with evening clothes, no overcoat, no hat.

"Good lord, Winthrop!" he said. "What's happened to you?"

There was no friendliness in his tone, and it came to me suddenly-a sickening premonition-that this was the last man it was good for me to meet just now. I resolved to make the best of my plight.

"Parker, a terrible thing has happened. Old man Drew has been murdered."

"You don't say? Who killed him?"

"I don't know. How the devil should I?" His cool unconcerned tones maddened me. "I had reached the house, and was waiting for him in the library. Hearing a cry, I ran into the diningroom. He was there-dead-on the floor."

"Really? And now you are wildly, running the streets. Hunting for a policeman, perhaps?"

I was not unaware of the sneering implication in his words, but I strove to keep my temper.

"I'm trying to get back to the house," I said calmly. "As I was standing beside the old man's body I saw someone moving outside an open window."

I outlined briefly the series of small adventures that had followed. He heard me out, then tossed away his cigarette, and I saw a faint smile on his cruel face. It occurred to me that I would have to repeat my story-repeat it again and again-and that I was destined to see that smile of unbelief on other faces.

"Very interesting," said Parker, still smiling. "I wish I could be of some help, old man. But as a matter of fact I'm in the same fix as you. I started to walk to the house, and lost my way."

"At any rate," I answered, "you must know the address."

"Don't you?" He laughed loudly. "I say, that's funny."

"To you, perhaps," I said.

"Pardon me. My sense of humor breaks out at most unseemly times. I do know the address, of course. The house is on California Street." He mentioned a number.

"There are no street signs on the lamps," I said.

"No.