Harren had drawn his chair beside him, and now sat leaning forward, bronzed cheek resting in his hand, staring fixedly at the picture.
"When was this--this photograph taken ?" asked the Tracer quietly.
"The day after I arrived in New York.

I was here, alone, smoking my pipe and glancing over the evening paper just before dressing for dinner.

It was growing rather dark in the room; I had not turned on the electric light.

My camera lay on the table--there it is!--that kodak.

I had taken a few snapshots on shipboard; there was one film left." He leaned more heavily on his elbow, eyes fixed upon the picture.
"It was almost dark," he repeated.