It was even worse than it had been in the street. And just what did that guy want from him, the one who kept standing beside him, who seemed to be talking to himself? Again and again when he moved off, the stranger placed himself beside him and nudged him—intentionally or not?—with his elbow, leering sideways as he did so. He was a repulsive man with hollow eyes and protruding cheekbones.

The boy left the window with the incomprehensible objects and crossed to the other side. There he saw a case containing tools of magic equipment—dice boxes, decks of mysterious cards, a skull—things such as a traveling magician and illusionist had used to delight the audience in his home village once. He recalled that time as he looked at the paraphernalia in front of him.

But he was nudged here too. Again a man was standing close beside him. Not the same one as before, but a taller, fatter man, who said nothing, but smiled at him familiarly. What did this man want from him? It gave him an uncanny feeling.

He walked on into the middle of the hurrying, driving human flood. The hall made a sharp bend and opened above to a high dome. A cafe with a porch was here and music sounded from it. He stopped to listen.

And again he felt that someone was standing beside or behind him, looking at him. He no longer dared to look up, for fear of meeting those looks again. Just what did all these men want from him? Surely no one knew him! Was he already being pursued? But that was just not possible—who could know that he was here!

With this feeling of uneasiness and fear, his only thought was to get out of this throughway as quickly as possible and he pressed toward the other exit, which he could already see. But he did not get ahead so quickly in the crowd.

Finally he reached the exit, and the streets opened out before him again. He stood still, removed his new hat and wiped his forehead with his dirty handkerchief. Now he would be safe here.

But no: as he looked up he felt a gaze on his face again, the gaze of a quite young man who was standing close in front of him and looking at him, but not maliciously or obtrusively. He was also not smiling or questioning, but was obviously aroused as if about to speak to him. Fear gripped him anew; hat and handkerchief still in hand, he began to run. He ran across the street, between the automobiles, by the entrance of a subway, over the avenue, and down a street on the other side, on and on, without looking up or around, as if he were pursued. He ran down a side street and continued on farther, until he arrived in a large square, in front of a tall building and beside a low church that stood by itself.

*

There he finally halted and looked around. No one appeared to be following. There were benches all around but he did not sit down. He walked on and on, down new streets until he found himself on a street that was quiet and empty of people. He looked around again. No, no one was following him. He was all alone here.

More slowly and calmly, he strode on farther. He passed over a large square and across a bridge, going always into new streets, but narrower and poorer ones. Suddenly he felt hungry, but he dared not go into a pub. They all looked sinister, and through their open doors he saw noisy, drinking men standing around at the bars by the entrances. Only at the next bakery did he buy himself a couple of rolls and eat them as he wandered along.

He decided he should look up Max, but it was already almost too late in the day for that.