He had found it and about lost it.

A day or so later! He had come to rob, to lie, to pillage, any method to gain his end; and fate had led him over this threshold without dishonor, ironically.

Even for that, thank God! Dimly he heard Fitzgerald whistling in his room across.

The sound entered his ear, but not his trend of thought.

God in Heaven what a small place this earth was! In his hand, tightly clutched, was a ball of paper, damp from the sweat of his palm.