“An eighth?”

The man said something, but Gorham hardly heard the price. He was looking around nervously.

“I’ll take half an ounce,” he said quickly. If the man was surprised, he gave no sign. He reached into his pocket and started pulling out little plastic bags. Gorham supposed he’d been given half an ounce, which he knew was plenty, but he had no idea what he was doing. He took the little bags and thrust them into a pocket of his pants, underneath his overcoat. He started to move away.

“You haven’t paid, man,” said the guy.

“Oh. Right.” Gorham pulled out some bills. “Is that enough?” He was starting to panic now.

“That’s enough,” said the dealer. It must have been too much, but right now Gorham didn’t care. He just wanted to get away. He hastened along the path, glancing back only once, hoping the dealer had vanished. But he was still standing there. Gorham followed the path until it led to another, and then made an eastward turn toward an exit onto Fifth. Thank God the guy was well out of sight by now.

He had just got to the sidewalk on Fifth when he saw the cop. He knew what he ought to do. He ought to look casual. After all, he was a respectable, conservative young man from Harvard who was going to be a banker, not a young guy with half an ounce of grass in his pocket. But he couldn’t help it. He froze. He probably looked as if he’d just killed someone in there.

The cop was watching him. He came toward him.

“Good afternoon, officer,” said Gorham. Somehow it sounded absurd.

“In the park?” said the cop.

“Yes.” Gorham was beginning to get control of himself now. “I needed a little walk.” The cop was still watching him. Gorham smiled sadly. “Do I look pale?”

“You might say that.”

“I guess I’d better get a coffee before I go back then.” He nodded grimly. “Not a good day. My father has cancer.” And then, because it was true, he felt the tears come to his eyes.

The cop saw.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “There’s a place where you can get coffee if you follow this street to Lexington.”

“Thank you.” He crossed Fifth and kept going all the way to Lexington. Then he turned north, went up a few blocks and came back to Park Avenue.

His father was still up when Mabel let him into the apartment. He was sitting in the chair, but he was slumped over on one arm, and his face was drawn. Obviously the effort of that day had taken a lot out of him.

“I found the guy with the red baseball hat,” Gorham said quickly, and he disgorged the contents of his pocket. He grinned. “I nearly got arrested.”

It took Charlie a few moments to summon his energy. But when he did, he looked up at Gorham with a gratitude that was touching.