Was he followed?
There was no way of telling.

The street was alive with vehicles tearing north and south, with frequent stoppage for the passage of those racing east and west.
The destination of Hawksley's cab was an old-fashioned apartment house in Eightieth Street.
Gregor would have a meal ready; and it struck Hawksley forcibly that he was hungry, that he had not touched food since the night before.

Gregor, valeting in a hotel, pressing coats and trousers and sewing on buttons! Groggy old world, wasn't it?
Gregor, pressing the trousers of the hoi polloi! Gregor, who could have sent New York mad with that old Stradivarius of his! But Gregor was wise.

Safety for him lay in obscurity; and what was more obscure than a hotel valet?
He did not seek the elevator but mounted the first flight of stairs.

He saw two doors, one on each side of the landing.