to wait. The hour has come, and fortune shall not find me laggard. It
has been something to wait as I have, never to have spoken, never to
have forgotten. France knows and Germany knows, but only me, not what
I have. They have even tried to drive me to crime. Wait, fools, wait!"

He drew his arms tightly over his heaving breast, for he was deeply
moved, while over his face came that indefinable light which, at times,
illuminates the countenance of a great man. It came and went; as a
flash of lightning betrays the oncoming storm.

The chimney! His heart missed a beat. He had forgotten the chimney.
The reaction affected him like a blow. A snarl twisted his mouth.
What was this chimney to any other man? Only he of all men, knew. And
yet, here was some one stealthily at work, forestalling him, knocking
the bottom out of his great dream. There was nothing pleasant in the
growing expression an his face; it was the tiger, waking. There could
be only one way.

Swiftly he dashed to his trunk, knelt and examined the lock, unscrewed
it, and took out the documents more precious to him than the treasures
of a hundred Captain Kidds. Instantly, he returned to the window.
Nothing was missing. But here was something he had never noticed
before. On the face of the slip of parchment--a diagram, dim and
faded--was an oily thumb-mark. The oil from the lock; nothing more;
doubtless he himself had touched it. How many times had he found an
unknown touch among his few belongings? How often had he smiled?
Still, to quell all rising doubts, he rubbed his right thumb on the
lock, and made a second impression. The daylight was now insufficient,
so he turned on the electricity, and compared them. Slowly, the scars
deepened till they were the tint of cedar. Death's head itself could