John saw the lights go out in the office of the Banner, saw the old editor come outside and toil up the stairway to his rooms above. The light came on there and Humphrey stood in his living room and took off his stiff bosomed shirt and stood motionless an interval. Then he did a strange thing. He drew up two rockers to the window for all the world as though he expected a visitor. For a time he rocked, then he rose and turned off the light and Taylor imagined he sat down again beside that empty chair in the darkness.
Lucius came along the street, smoking a cigar with a deal of manner. There was that in his bearing which indicated stimulants.
"Hello, Mr. Taylor!"
"Hello, Lucius."
"Hot night."
"Yes. Hot."
Pause.
Taylor hoped the boy would go on but he mounted the steps and dragged up a chair, propping his feet pompously on the rail.
"Hot an' dusty an' dead," he said ponderously. "Pancake's as—as flat as a pancake!"
His silly giggle confirmed the suspicion that he had been drinking.
"Well she won't bother me much more b' God. It may be hotter in Detroit but it ain't so dead, I'll tell the world."
"Going to Detroit, are you?"
"I'll say I am! Just as soon as I get this here, now, case off my mind I'll be on my way." He wagged his head and hitched his chair even closer and whispered. "You know, Taylor, we got old Hump sunk."
