He stiffened and caught his breath as he watched the man glance over his shoulder and go quickly to a desk and open a drawer and take out a pistol. The man came slowly to the center of the room and stood looking down at the floor, gun in hand; then he bit his lips and a tiny line of blood etched its way down a corner of his chin. He lifted the gun and placed the barrel at his temple and there was a loud report and the man’s head jerked violently; he fell forward on his face as though a ton of force had struck him and he lay like a log; in the same instant the gun skidded along the surface of the floor and clattered to a stop against a wall, its blue metal glinting triumphantly.

Lawson came running into the room, gun in hand; he saw the sprawled figure, knelt, and rolled the body over. A scarlet hole gaped in the man’s temple and on the floor one hand lay in a widening pool of blood. Lawson went to the washroom and returned with a white towel which he spread over the man’s face. Several people were now standing about, looking down at the dead man; among them was the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl pressing a handkerchief against her mouth and staring with transfixed eyes.

He heaved a sigh and got down from the rain pipe and crawled back into the basement. The dead man was already completely gone from his mind and he was bent toward other goals. Again he felt that he was almost ready to leave the underground; but not quite. He was searching for other prods to confirm his feelings, waiting for his feelings to speak to him in still more unmistakable terms.

X

He re-entered the sewer and came to the opening into which he had crawled to get the rings and watches and diamonds. What’s happening in there? he wondered. He climbed into the opening and lay flat on his back and pulled himself forward by lifting his body as he crawled hand over hand along the pipe. Would his returning to look be dangerous? Perhaps they would be so engaged in trying to find the burglar that they would not think of looking for a hole in the storage locker. He paused; it was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing and more than anything else that puzzled him. He had expected to hear sounds of commotion, the same tumult of voices that he had heard in the office of the real estate company when it was discovered that the money was missing from the safe. Was this a trap? Was someone waiting for him? He peered ahead and all was darkness. What had become of the night watchman? The watchman’s being wrongly accused might serve to lift him into a higher state of awareness. That was his whole attitude toward the plight of the watchman; he could no longer feel remorse.