Heyes woke, late again, for yet another day at the clinic. He held out less and less hope that he would ever speak, much less write, again. The Kid and Cat’s first hopeful letter had arrived the previous day, but it only increased the pressure on the silent man. The lonely westerner walked down the street to the local bakery where he ordered bagels and coffee every morning, pointing silently at what he wanted. “Here you go, Mr. Smith,” said the baker. “I hope to hear your voice one day. But not yet?” Heyes shook his head sadly. Heyes paid the man with money that he had received from Dr. Leutze.
It was with bitter shame that Hannibal Heyes accepted this charity, and the money for rent and clothes. He was happy to help with chores around the clinic, carrying supplies up the stairs and trash down them, cleaning floors and windows. At least Heyes could do his chores well. His therapy continued to be in vain. Again, this day, Heyes looked with desperation into his doctor’s pale, troubled eyes. Again, after useless hours of effort, Dr. Leutze said, “Mr. Smith, please, go and get some rest. You can’t work under such pressure and in such exhaustion. Come back when you’re feeling better. I wish to heaven that I knew what was tormenting you so much.”
Heyes, stricken with fear and guilt, wandered the trails of Central Park in the vain search for peace. He just needed time to think without anyone asking anything of him. It was too cold for him to stay long, but it was good just to get away from the constant mental demands of therapy, and the barrage of disappointment he was suffering at the clinic. Dr. Leutze and his colleagues were kind and patient with their new western patient, knowing how slow progress could be. But Heyes' high expectations and demands made him feel like an utter failure.
Even in the quiet, wooded park, there was no peace for Heyes. He heard a voice from his past calling down the path, "Joshua! Joshua! How amazing to see you again, here of all places!" A slender blonde woman waved at him and walked quickly toward him. Heyes recognized the lovely face and the eastern accent. It was Julia, the out-of-work milliner from Boston, whom he had met on the ill-fated "archeology" expedition into Devil's Hole country soon after he and the Kid had started to go straight. Julia had fallen hard for the party's handsome guide "Joshua Smith" and had briefly been his lover. He didn't even know her real last name – only the false one – Finney - she had taken on in the pay of a Scotland Yard detective. Heyes guessed that made them even since she had no idea of his true name.
Heyes couldn't bear the thought of Julia's seeing him like this – barely able to speak a word. He tried to duck away into the trees, but without leaves they offered little cover. Julia called after him, "Joshua, you heard me and you recognize me! What's wrong?" He stood in mute agony beside the path while Julia hurried over to him. As she got close she looked up and down the path, and seeing that there was no one near, whispered "You really are an outlaw, aren't you? Mr. Finney, the Scotland Yard man, that's what he thought. He was right, wasn't he? That's why you didn't want me to recognize you. Don't be silly! I won't turn you in!"
Heyes shook his head at her, desperate to keep any suggestion of his outlaw status from following him to New York. He immediately felt awful about lying even wordlessly – yet again. Julia was the same straight-forward, warm girl she had been two years before and he would have much preferred to be honest with her. "Aren't you going to even say 'hello'?" she asked. Heyes ducked his head. He tried to speak and nothing would come out. "Joshua, what's wrong? Why won't you speak to me?" she asked anxiously and looked at him in concern. Then Heyes saw the thing he most dreaded – pity in her eyes. She had spotted the long scar clearly visible under the still short hair on his left temple. "Oh my goodness, you're hurt! Oh Joshua! You can't talk, can you?"
Joshua shook his head and looked away from her. He felt ready to sink right through the path and vanish in shame. He mimed a gun. Julia was appalled. "You were shot? Shot in the head? Oh Joshua, that's awful! You poor thing!" Julia reached for his hand, but Heyes took a step away from her and crossed his arms defensively. It might have been rude, but he couldn't help it. He felt as miserable and isolated as he had ever been in his life. He couldn't endure being pitied.
Julia went on, knowing her former lover was in distress but seeming to be unaware of how much worse she was making it, "What are you doing in New York? Seeing a doctor?" Heyes nodded. "Is it helping?" Heyes shook his head, looking determinedly at the path under his feet.
"Not yet?" Julia prompted. "Oh, you will do better! I know you will! Come with me. I'm in town on an errand for our shop in Boston and I'm staying near here. Let's go to dinner – I know a good place."
Heyes didn't want to spend a minute more with Julia than he had to. It was too painful to think of her comparing the highly competent man she had known before with the reduced creature he felt that he was now. But he couldn't find a way to escape. Heyes' only comfort in New York had been knowing that he could vanish into the masses of people. Other than the Kid, none of his former friends would ever find him here and see his humiliating disability. Now even that comfort was denied him – his past had found him out. Could the law be far behind?
But in another way, Heyes was glad Julia had found him. He was horribly lonely, especially for the company of women – women who saw him as a man, not just a bundle of symptoms and problems. Julia was so solicitous; it was not hard for her to convince Heyes to go with her to dinner. They went to a charming little French restaurant where they sat at a tiny table for two. Julia did enough talking for them both, chattering on about her new job at another millinery shop Boston, and the small doings of "The Hub of the Universe." She was endlessly thoughtful, attentive and affectionate. Heyes reached across the little table, dodging the wine bottle, and kissed the delighted Julia. God, it felt good to kiss a woman again, and to feel her respond. It had been only a few weeks since he had kissed Peggy good-bye, but it felt like forever to Heyes.
Before Heyes knew what was happening, Julia had suggested that they return to her hotel room. They entered the small, grubby lobby one at a time in a vain attempt to avoid the appearance of impropriety. Then Heyes was in her little bed. He made love to her with a ferocity that he couldn't help and couldn't excuse.
Heyes was consumed with guilt even while they lay together. He knew that in her bed he hadn't been expressing any real love for Julia – only using her in a vain attempt to relieve his own anguished loneliness. To try to make it up to Julia, he behaved with more affection than he really felt, stroking her and kissing her. He had treated this good woman as badly as any prostitute, but without even paying her. She had even paid for the dinner. He felt completely filthy.
Despite his exhaustion, Heyes didn't allow himself to fall asleep in Julia's rented bed. Heyes, unable to bear what he was doing any longer, got up. He left Julia's bed, of course without a word. He turned away from her and dressed while Julia begged him to stay all night with her. Her ignored her and walked out, still tucking in his shirt. She rapidly dressed and tried to follow Heyes as he hurried into the night. He was unsure where he was or where he needed to go to get to Jim's place on Hester Street. He only knew that he had to get away.
Julia, starting out well behind Heyes because she had started dressing later and because a woman's clothes took longer to put on, couldn't catch up with her lover. He retreated with long, rapid strides. She called after him down the dark street, "Joshua! Come back! Come back! Where can I find you? Can I see you again? Joshua! Please!" Heyes didn't pause or turn back. He prayed that she would never be able to find him again. She called after him again and again, but he didn't look back. He almost ran away – from his own shame more than from Julia herself.
At last Julia yelled angrily at the top of her lungs after her retreating lover. "You really are an outlaw, aren't you?! I know who you are! You're a thief - Hannibal Heyes the thief!" Some stranger from a nearby apartment yelled at her to shut up and she did.
Heyes' heart pounded. His name had followed him – and it might lose him his freedom forever. Would anyone of the dozens or even hundreds who must have heard Julia's shout believe her? He could hardly walk faster than he was moving already. He didn’t dare run – it would show his guilt to everyone. He couldn't call a cab, unable as he was to give any address as a destination. Would Julia turn him in? Heyes took a wandering route back to Jim's place, both because he kept getting lost in the stinking urban darkness and because he hoped to throw off any pursuit. He had no idea if she would turn him in if she found him – no idea at all. After what he had done to her, he wouldn't have blamed her if she did.