IX


A CROSS-TOWN CAR


_Concerning the Sudden Madness of One Brown_

As the two young fellows, carrying their suitcases, emerged from the
subway at Times Square into the midsummer glare and racket of Broadway
and Forty-second Street, Brown suddenly halted, pressed his hand to his
forehead, gazed earnestly up at the sky as though trying to recollect how
to fly, then abruptly gripped Smith's left arm just above the elbow and
squeezed it, causing the latter gentleman exquisite discomfort.

"Here! Stop it!" protested Smith, wriggling with annoyance.

Brown only gazed at him and then at the sky.

"Stop it!" repeated Smith, astonished. "Why do you pinch me and then look
at the sky? Is--is a monoplane attempting to alight on me? _What_ is the
matter with you, anyway?"

"That peculiar consciousness," said Brown, dreamily, "is creeping over
me. Don't move--don't speak--don't interrupt me, Smith."

"Let go of me!" retorted Smith.