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ays　before　in　a　keen　moral　struggle？　　The　looking…glass　he　passed　on　his　way　to　the　table　where　the　simple　breakfast　was　spread　out；　showed　him　a　figure　so　unlike　the　alert；　business…like　chap　he　had　been　that　night；　that　he　felt　his　old　assurance　revive　in　time　to　ease　a　situation　which　had　no　counterpart　in　his　experience。

〃I'm　going　out　myself　to…day；　so　we'll　have　to　hurry　a　bit；〃　was　Brotherson's　first　remark　as　they　seated　themselves　at　table。　　〃Do　you　like　your　coffee　plain　or　with　milk　in　it？〃

〃Plain。　　Gosh！　　what　pictures！　　Where　do　you　get　'em？　　You　must　have　a　lot　of　coin。〃　Sweetwater　was　staring　at　the　row　of　photographs；　mostly　of　a　very　high　order；　tacked　along　the　wall　separating　the　two　rooms。　　They　were　unframed；　but　they　were　mostly　copies　of　great　pictures；　and　the　effect　was　rather　imposing　in　contrast　to　the　shabby　furniture　and　the　otherwise　homely　fittings。

〃Yes；　I've　enough　for　that　kind　of　thing；〃　was　his　host's　reply。　But　the　tone　was　reserved；　and　Sweetwater　did　not　presume　again　along　this　line。　　Instead；　he　looked　well　at　the　books　piled　upon　the　shelves　under　these　photographs；　and　wondered　aloud　at　their　number　and　at　the　man　who　could　waste　such　a　lot　of　time　in　reading　them。　　But　he　made　no　more　direct　remarks。　　Was　he　cowed　by　the　penetrating　eye　he　encountered　whenever　he　yielded　to　the　fascination　exerted　by　Mr。　Brotherson's　personality　and　looked　his　way？　　He　hated　to　think　so；　yet　something　held　him　in　check　and　made　him　listen；　open…mouthed；　when　the　other　chose　to　speak。

Yet　there　was　one　cheerful　moment。　　It　was　when　he　noticed　the　careless　way　in　which　those　books　were　arranged　upon　their　shelves。　An　idea　had　come　to　him。　　He　hid　his　relief　in　his　cup；　as　he　drained　the　last　drops　of　the　coffee　which　really　tasted　better　than　he　had　expected。

When　he　returned　from　work　that　afternoon　it　was　with　an　auger　under　his　coat　and　a　conviction　which　led　him　to　empty　out　the　contents　of　a　small　phial　which　he　took　down　from　a　shelf。　　He　had　told　Mr。　Gryce　that　he　was　eager　for　the　business　because　of　its　difficulties；　but　that　was　when　he　was　feeling　fine　and　up　to　any　game　which　might　come　his　way。　　Now　he　felt　weak　and　easily　discouraged。　　This　would　not　do。　　He　must　regain　his　health　at　all　hazards；　so　he　poured　out　the　mixture　which　had　given　him　such　a　sickly　air。　　This　done　and　a　rude　supper　eaten；　he　took　up　his　auger。　　He　had　heard　Mr。　Brotherson's　step　go　by。　　But　next　minute　he　laid　it　down　again　in　great　haste　and　flung　a　newspaper　over　it。　　Mr。　Brotherson　was　coming　back；　had　stopped　at　his　door；　had　knocked　and　must　be　let　in。

〃You're　better　this　evening；〃　he　heard　in　those　kindly　tones　which　so　confused　and　irritated　him。

〃Yes；〃　was　the　surly　admission。　　〃But　it's　stifling　here。　　If　I　have　to　live　long　in　this　hole　I'll　dry　up　from　want　of　air。　　It's　near　the　shop　or　I　wouldn't　stay　out　the　week。〃　　Twice　this　day　he　had　seen　Brotherson's　tall　figure　stop　before　the　window　of　this　shop　and　look　in　at　him　at　his　bench。　　But　he　said　nothing　about　that。

〃Yes；〃　agreed　the　other；　〃it's　no　way　to　live。　　But　you're　alone。　Upstairs　there's　a　whole　family　huddled　into　a　room　just　like　this。　Two　of　the　kids　sleep　in　the　closet。　　It's　things　like　that　which　have　made　me　the　friend　of　the　poor；　and　the　mortal　enemy　of　men　and　women　who　spread　themselves　over　a　dozen　big　rooms　and　think　themselves　ill…used　if　the　gas　burns　poorly　or　a　fireplace　smokes。　I'm　off　for　the　evening；　anything　I　can　do　for　you？〃

〃Show　me　how　I　can　win　my　way　into　such　rooms　as　you've　just　talked　about。　　Nothing　less　will　make　me　look　up。　　I'd　like　to　sleep　in　one　to…night。　　In　the　best　bedroom；　sir。　　I'm　ambitious；　I　am。〃

A　poor　joke；　though　they　both　laughed。　　There　Mr。　Brotherson　passed　on；　and　Sweetwater　listened　till　he　was　sure　that　his　too　attentive　neighbour　had　really　gone　down　the　three　flights　between　him　and　the　street。　　Then　he　took　up　his　auger　again　and　shut　himself　up　in　his　closet。

There　was　nothing　peculiar　about　this　closet。　　It　was　just　an　ordinary　one　with　drawers　and　shelves　on　one　side；　and　an　open　space　on　the　other　for　the　hanging　up　of　clothes。　　Very　few　clothes　hung　there　at　present；　but　it　was　in　this　portion　of　the　closet　that　he　stopped　and　began　to　try　the　wall　of　Brotherson's　room；　with　the　butt　end　of　the　tool　he　carried。

The　sound　seemed　to　satisfy　him；　for　very　soon　he　was　boring　a　hole　at　a　point　exactly　level　with　his　ear；　but　not　without　frequent　pauses　and　much　attention　given　to　the　possible　return　of　those　departed　foot…steps。　　He　remembered　that　Mr。　Brotherson　had　a　way　of　coming　back　on　unexpected　errands　after　giving　out　his　intention　of　being　absent　for　hours。

Sweetwater　did　not　want　to　be　caught　in　any　such　trap　as　that；　so　he　carefully　followed　every　sound　that　reached　him　from　the　noisy　halls。　But　he　did　not　forsake　his　post；　he　did　not　have　to。　　Mr。　Brotherson　had　been　sincere　in　his　good…bye；　and　the　auger　finished　its　job　and　was　withdrawn　without　any　interruption　from　the　man　whose　premises　had　been　thus　audaciously　invaded。

〃Neat　as　well　as　useful；〃　was　the　gay　comment　with　which　Sweetwater　surveyed　his　work；　then　laid　his　ear　to　the　hole。　　Whereas　previously　he　could　barely　hear　the　rattling　of　coals　from　the　coal…scuttle；　he　was　now　able　to　catch　the　sound　of　an　ash　falling　into　the　ash…pit。

His　next　move　was　to　test　the　depth　of　the　partition　by　inserting　his　finger　in　the　hole　he　had　made。　　He　found　it　stopped　by　some　obstacle　before　it　had　reached　half　its　length；　and　anxious　to　satisfy　himself　of　the　nature　of　this　obstacle；　he　gently　moved　the　tip　of　his　finger　to　and　fro　over　what　was　certainly　the　edge　of　a　book。

This　proved　that　his　calculations　had　been　correct　and　that　the　opening　so　accessible　on　his　side；　was　completely　veiled　on　the　other　by　the　books　he　had　seen　packed　on　the　shelves。　　As　these　shelves　had　no　other　backing　than　the　wall；　he　had　feared　striking　a　spot　not　covered　by　a　book。　　But　he　had　not　undertaken　so　risky　a　piece　of　work　without　first　noting　how　nearly　the　tops　of　the　books　approached　the　line　of　the　shelf　above　them；　and　the　consequent　unlikelihood　of　his　striking　the　space　between；　at　the　height　he　planned　the　hole。　　He　had　even　been　careful　to　assure　himself　that　all　the　volumes　at　this　exact　point　stood　far　enough　forward　to　afford　room　behind　them　for　the　chips　and　plaster　he　must　necessarily　push　through　with　his　auger；　and　also　…　important　consideration　…　for　the　free　passage　of　the　sounds　by　which　he　hoped　to　profit。

As　he　listened　for　a　moment　longer；　and　then　stooped　to　gather　up　the　debris　which　had　fallen　on　his　own　side　of　the　partition；　he　muttered；　in　his　old　self…congratulatory　way：

〃If　the　devil　don't　interfere　in　some　way　best　known　to　himself；　this　opportunity　I　have　made　for　myself　of　listening　to　this　arrogant　fellow's　very　heartbeats　should　give　me　some　clew　to　his　secret。　As　soon　as　I　can　stand　it；　I'll　spend　my　evenings　at　this　hole。〃

But　it　was　days　before　he　could　trust　himself　so　far。　　Meanwhile　their　acquaintance　ripened；　though　with　no　very　satisfactory　results。　The　detective　found　himself　led　into　telling　stories　of　his　early　home…life　to　keep　pace　with　the　man　who　always　had　something　of　moment　and　solid　interest　to　impart。　　This　was　undesirable；　for　instead　of　calling　out　a　corresponding　confidence　from　Brotherson；　it　only　seemed　to　make　his　conversation　more　coldly　impersonal。

In　consequence；　Sweetwater　suddenly　found　himself　quite　well　and　one　evening；　when　he　was　sure　that　his　neighbour　was　at　home；　he　slid　softly　into　his　closet　and　laid　his　ear　to　the　opening　he　had　made　there。　　The　result　was　unexpected。　　Mr。　Brotherson　was　pacing　the　floor；　and　talking　softly　to　himself。

At　first；　the　cadence　and　full　music　of　the　tones　conveyed　nothing　to　our　far　from　literary　detective。　　The　victim　of　his　secret　machinations　was　expressing　himself　in　words；　words；　…　that　was　the　point　which　counted　with　him。　　But　as　he　listened　longer　and　gradually　took　in　the　sense　of　these　words；　his　heart　went　down　lower　and　lower　till　it　reached　his　boots。　　His　inscrutable　and　ever　disappointing　neighbour　was　not　indulging　in　self…communings　of　any　kind。　　He　was　reciting　poetry；　and　what　was　worse；　poetry　which　he　only　half　remembered　and　was　trying　to　recall；　…　an　incredible　occupation　for　a　man　weighted　with　a　criminal　secret。

Sweetwater　was　disgusted；　and　was　withdrawing　in　high　indignation　from　his　vantage…point　when　something　occurred　of　a　startling　enough　nature　to　hold　him　where　he　was　in　almost　breathless　expectation。

The　hole　which　in　the　darkness　of　the　closet　was　always　faintly　visible；　even　when　the　light　was　not　very　strong　in　the　adjoining　room；　had　suddenly　become　a　bright　and　shining　loop…hole；　with　a　suggestion　of　movement　in　the　space　beyond。　　The　book　which　had　hid　this　hole　on　Brotherson's　side　had　been　taken　down　…　the　one　book　in　all　those　hundreds　whose　removal　threatened　Sweetwater's　schemes；　if　not　himself。

For　an　instant　the　thwarted　detective　listened　for　the　angry　shout　or　the　smothered　oath　which　would　naturally　follow　the　discovery　by　Brotherson　of　this　attempted　interference　with　his　privacy。

But　all　was　still　on　his　side　of　the　wall。　　A　rustling　of　leaves　could　be　heard；　as　the　inventor　searched　for　the　poem　he　wanted；　but　nothing　more。　　In　withdrawing　the　book；　he　had　failed　to　notice　the　hole　in　the　plaster　back　of　it。　　But　he　could　hardly　fail　to　see　it　when　he　came　to　put　the　book　back。　　Meantime；　suspense　for　Sweetwater。

It　was　several　minutes　before　he　heard　Mr。　Brotherson'　s　voice　again；　then　it　was　in　triumphant　repetition　of　the　lines　which　had　escaped　his　memory。　　They　were　great　words　surely　and　Sweetwater　never　forgot　them；　but　the　impression　which　they　made　upon　his　mind；　an　impression　so　forcible　that　he　was　able　to　repeat　them；　months　afterward　to　Mr。　Gryce；　did　not　prevent　him　from　noting　the　tone　in　which　they　were　uttered；　nor　the　thud　which　followed　as　the　book　was　thrown　down　upon　the　floor。

〃Fool！〃　　The　word　rang　out　in　bitter　irony　from　his　irate　neighbour's　lips。　　〃What　does　he　know　of　woman！　　Woman！　　Let　him　court　a　rich　one　and　see　…　but　that's　all　over　and　done　with。　　No　more　harping　on　that　string；　a