It was fine to have been the life of the party. It was not quite so fine
to discover that the taxicab to which he must entrust himself for the
long ride up to West Eighty-fifth Street was a most shabby-appearing
vehicle, the driver of which, moreover, as Mr. Leary could divine even
as he crossed the sidewalk, had wiled away the tedium of waiting by
indulgence in draughts of something more potent than the chill air of
latish November. Mr. Leary peered doubtfully into the illuminated
countenance but dulled eyes of the driver and caught a whiff of a breath
alcoholically fragrant, and he understood that the warning relayed to
him by Blanche had carried a subtle double meaning. Still, there was no
other taxicab to be had. The street might have been a byway in old
Pompeii for all the life that moved within it. Washington Square, facing
him, was as empty as a graveyard generally is at this hour, and the
semblance of a conventional graveyard in wintertime was helped out by a
light snow--the first of the season--sifting down in large damp flakes.
Twice and thrice he repeated the address, speaking each time sharply and
distinctly, before the meaning seemed to filter into the befogged
intellect of the inebriate. On the third rendition the latter roused
from where he was slumped down.
"I garcia, Steve," he said thickly. "I garcia firs' time only y'
hollowed s'loud I couldn und'stancher."
So saying he lurched into a semiupright posture and fumbled for the
wheel. Silently condemning the curse of intemperance among the working
classes of a great city Mr. Leary boarded the cab and drew the skirts of
his overcoat down in an effort to cover his knees. With a harsh grating
of clutches and an abrupt jerk the taxi started north.
Wobbling though he was upon his perch the driver mechanically steered a
reasonably straight course. The passenger leaning back in the depths of
the cab confessed to himself he was a trifle weary and more than a
trifle sleepy. At thirty-seven one does not dance and play children's
games alternately for six hours on a stretch without paying for the
exertion in a sensation of let-downness. His head slipped forward on his
chest.