I've been in hell for
days. I haven't slept. Mortimer's eyes have stared at me all through the
night, for I liked him--everybody liked him--he was good to me. Oh, God!
I should have gone out of my mind with more of it. I didn't steal the
money--no, no! I didn't mean to steal it; the Devil put it into my
hands. Before God, I never stole a dollar in my life. But it wasn't
that--it wasn't the money--it was to think that an innocent man was to
suffer--to have his life wrecked because of my folly."

How it was coming home to Crane. Had he not dabbled his hands in the
same sin, almost committed it?

"You have never known what it is to suffer in that way. But let me tell
you all. I must. Then perhaps you will understand how I was tempted. For
years I have been ground in poverty. My mother and my sister, even my
brother have all looked to me. My brother should have supported them,
but all his money went on the race course, gambling. When I heard Alan
Porter tell Mortimer that your horse was sure to win, for the first time
in my life I felt a desire to get money that way. But I had no money to
bet. That day as I went into the vault I saw under a lower shelf--the
Devil drew my eyes that way--a bank note. I hardly knew it was a bank
note, for I saw but a piece of paper indistinctly in the dim light. I
picked it up. Oh, God! if I hadn't touched it! I looked at it. My heart
jumped in my throat and choked me; my head swam. In my ears were strange
voices, saying: 'Take it! Put it in your pocket!' Perhaps it was because
it was so large--a thousand dollars--perhaps it was because it seemed
lost, out of place, I don't know. I had handled thousands and thousands
before, and never felt that way.

"The devil voices that were in my ears said: 'This is your chance. Take
it, borrow it, no one will know. Bet it on the horse that will surely
win, and you will get many thousands; then you can replace it, and for
once in your life you will know what it is to have something of your
own.'"

"I tried to put it back. I couldn't. The voices called me a fool, a
coward. I thought of my mother, my sister, what I could do if I had the
courage. I tried to take it in to Mr. Lane and say that I had found it.
I couldn't. Oh, my God! you don't know what it is to be tempted! You
have been successful, and don't know how miserably weak ill-fortune
makes a man. I yielded--I took it; then when its loss was discovered,
and Mortimer was accused, I tried to confess