Perhaps it would be better if he clung to the pipe and watched continuously. He lifted himself and squinted at the dial until his eyes thickened with tears. Exhausted, he stood again in the areaway. He heard a door being shut and he clawed up the pipe and looked. He jerked tense as a vague figure passed in front of him. He stared unblinkingly, hugging the pipe with one hand and holding the screwdriver ready to write upon the brick wall with the other. His ears caught: dong . . . dong . . . dong . . . dong . . . dong . . . five o’clock, he muttered. Maybe they were closing now. Perhaps the safe was already locked! He bit his lip in exasperation; then, just as he was about to give up, the hand touched the steel dial and twirled it once to right and stopped. He squinted and etched l-R-6 upon the wall with the tip of the screwdriver. The hand twirled the dial twice toward left and stopped at two and he engraved 2-L-2 upon the wall. The dial was spun four times to right and stopped at six again; he wrote 4-R-6. The dial rotated three times to left and was centered straight up and down and he wrote 3-L-0. The hand went from view and the door swung open; again he saw piles of green money and rows of wrapped coins. I got it, he said.

Then he was astonished. There were now two hands. The right hand lifted a wad of green bills and deftly slipped it up the sleeve of the left hand. The white hands trembled. Again the right hand went into the safe and picked up a wad of bills and pushed it quickly up the sleeve of the left hand. He’s stealing, he said. He grew indignant, as if he owned the money. Though he had planned to steal the money, he despised and pitied the man. His stealing the money and the man’s stealing the money were entirely two different things. He wanted to steal the money merely for the sensation involved, and he had no intention of ever spending a penny of it; but the man who was now stealing it was going to spend it, perhaps for pleasure. The hands went away and the huge steel door closed with a soft click.

Though angry, he was satisfied. They would close the office soon. I’ll clean the place out, he mused. He imagined the entire office staff upset; the police would question everyone for a crime they had not committed, just as they had once questioned him. And they would have no idea of how the money had been taken until they discovered the holes he had tunneled in the wall of the basements. He lowered himself and laughed mischievously, with the glee of an adolescent boy.

He kept vigil at the window until the yellow light went out. They’re closed now, he said. He flattened himself against the brick wall as the window above him shut with a rasping noise; he heard a series of metallic clicks. He looked; the window had been bolted with a metal shutter. That won’t help you, he whispered, smiling. He went back into the basement and picked up the sack containing the radio and cleaver, and crawled through the two holes he had dug and groped his way into the basement; he saw and heard nothing. He moved in slow motion, breathing softly. Careful, he thought.