The flame on the taper crept down.

The man gave a quick movement to his shoulders; it was the shrug, not of impatience but of resignation.

He saw the lock through the haze of a conjured face.

He shut his eyes, but the vision remained.

Slowly he drew his fingers over the flame.
Yet, before the flame died wholly it touched two points of light in the doorway, the round crystals of a pair of spectacles.
"Two souls with but a single thought!" the secret agent murmured.
"Poor devil! why does he hesitate?
Why does he not take it and be gone?
Is he still honest?
_Peste_! I must be growing old.