But one satisfaction he could not deny himself.

It was unlikely that anyone would recognize, in the human derelict before the looking-glass, Herbert Whitmore, millionaire, owner of the great Whitmore Iron Works.

It was certain that his most intimate friend would have failed to penetrate his disguise.
Dismissing the unpleasant reflections kindled within him, Whitmore proceeded with characteristic assurance to execute what was in his mind.
He descended silently to the basement of the house, where he obtained a heavy screw-driver.

This he secreted in the inside pocket of his coat.
Next he went to the basement door and peered furtively through the grating.

His anxious eyes swept the street until convinced that no inquisitive policeman was loitering in the immediate vicinity.