The address Lowry had gotten proved to be a vacant house. His heart sank. He could practically visualize the Fates, three old crones weaving the fabric of a man’s destiny and refusing to be thwarted once they had mapped it out, laughing mockingly at him from whatever far-off place they inhabited. Their devilish plans to doom an innocent man had been made so carefully that not the slightest scrap in his favor could materialize. Lowry wondered whether his efforts would be of any use. Maybe it was just futile to go to all this time and trouble to save a man who was so obviously marked for the refuse heap of humanity. Even if he saved McKay through some miracle, what guarantee was there that the young man would not immediately go back to his old haunts and rapidly wind up either once again in jail or in some downtown alcoholic ward?

Then he felt low for having weakened so easily. McKay was a human being, he thought, and his life was at stake. He had no right to judge the way McKay chose to spend his life. But if it was in his power to save that life, he could not abandon the attempt until all hope was definitely lost.

With a determined step, he went to the door of the next house and knocked briskly.

A slatternly woman of about forty opened the door halfway. She eyed Lowry with cold suspicion, as though he might be a bill collector or a city marshall.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering,” Lowry said, “if you could tell me where the Wilsons moved.”

The woman shrugged. “How would I know?” she whined. “They didn’t move anyplace much in particular, if you ask me. Mrs. Wilson told me they were going off to Orange County someplace to look for work. Picking peas, I think she said. They might be most anyplace by this time. Folks move around a lot.”

Lowry did not dare follow up with any further philosophical conclusions about the craftily laid plans of the three wrinkled sisters. The combination of events and circumstances conspiring against McKay was so overwhelming that he did not dare think about it at all. He knew by now that whatever other information he might be able to secure would only serve to make everything look a good deal blacker than it did already, if that were possible.

“Tell me,” he said, as she began to show signs of impatience with him. “Do you know whether they’re likely to be coming back here?”

She gestured with her shoulders. “No, I don’t, mister. But I kind of doubt that they will, you know. He had a pretty tough time around here, that fellow Wilson did. I mean, being an exconvict and all, he just couldn’t manage to get a lick o’work. People just wouldn’t take him on.”

Lowry took this one in his stride, even though it was an overpowering blow.