o the corner, and then
plunged through the dark and ill-smelling streets of the poor and
crowded quarter, till he came by the open gate of a coal-yard. Seeing
he was not pursued he went in, concealed himself behind a pile of
boards and lay there until it was quite dark.

He then came out and walked through roundabout ways, avoiding the
gas-lights and the broad thoroughfares, to Dean Street. He climbed the
fence and crept through the garden to the back door of the house. He
had eaten nothing since early morning, and was beginning to be hungry.
He saw there were no lights in the rear of the house, and thought if he
could enter the kitchen he might get a loaf of bread without alarming
the household. He tried the back door and found it fastened. But
knowing the ways of the house, he raised the cellar door, went down the
steps, shut the door down upon himself, groped his way to the inner
stairs, and so gained the kitchen. He was walking to the cupboard when
the door opened and he saw Maud coming toward him.

She did not seem in the least startled to see him there. In the
extremity of her terror, it may have seemed to her that he had been
sent especially to her help. She walked up to him, laid her hands on
his shoulders and whispered, "Oh, Sam, I am so glad to see you. Save
me! Don't let him touch me! He is in there."

Sam hardly knew if this were real or not. A wild fancy assailed him for
an instant--was he killed in jumping from the window? Surely this could
never happen to him on the earth; the girl who had always been so cold
and proud to him was in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her warm
breath on his cheek. She was asking his help against some danger.

"All right, Mattie," he whispered. "Nobody shall hurt you. Who is it?"
He thought of no one but the police.

"Offitt," she said.

He brushed her aside as if she had been a cobweb in his path, and with
a wild cry of joy and vengeance he burst through the half-open door.
Offitt turned at the noise, and saw Sam coming, and knew that the end
of his life was there. His heart was like water within him. He made a
feeble effort at defence; but the carpenter, without a word, threw him
on the floor, planted one knee on his chest, and with his bare hands
made good the threat he uttered in his agony in the court-room,
twisting and breaking his neck.

Sleeny rose, pulled the cover from the centre-table in the room, and
threw it over the distorted face of the dead man.