CHAPTER 8
It was well that Quin had an errand to perform that night. His emotions,
which had been accumulating compound interest since five o'clock,
demanded an outlet in immediate action. He had not the faintest idea
where the Aristo Apartments might be; but, wherever they were, he meant
to find them. Consultation with a telephone book at the corner drug-store
sent him across the city to a newer and more fashionable residence
quarter. As he left the street-car at the corner indicated, he asked a
man who was just dismounting from a taxi-cab for further information.
When the dapper gentleman, thus addressed, turned toward him, it was
evident that he had dined not wisely but too well. He was at that mellow
stage that radiates affection, and, having bidden a loving farewell to
the taxi driver, he now linked his arm in Quin's and repeated gaily:
"'Risto? Of course I can find it for you, if it's where it was this
morning! Always make a point of helping a man that's worse off than I am.
Always help a sholdier, anyhow. Take my arm, old chap. Take my cane, too.
I'll help you."
Thus assisted and assisting, Quin good-humoredly allowed himself to be
conducted in a zigzag course to the imposing doorway of a large
apartment-house across the street.
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