without a door," I answered, smartly.

"Oh, is that all! To-morrow we will go out and find a door upon which
this little key may be profitably employed. You promise to enter that
door with me?"

"I promise."

III

House in the Middle of the Block

"All things come to him who waits," quoted Indiman. "Do you believe
that?"

"It's a comfortable theory," I answered.

"But an untenable one. And Fortune is equally elusive to those who seek
her over-persistently. The truth, as usual, lies between the extremes."

"Well?"

"The secret is simple enough. He who is ready to receive, receives.
Love, fame, the shower of gold--they are in the air, and only waiting
to be precipitated. I stand ready to be amused, and that same afternoon
the Evening Post aims a blow at the Tammany 'Tiger' over the shoulder
of Mr. Edward M. Shepard; I am in the mood adventurous, and instantly
the shadow of a prodigy falls across my threshold; yea, though I live
on upper West End Avenue. Do you remember this?" and he held out a
small Yale latch-key.

"It is the one you picked up at Twenty-seventh Street and Fifth Avenue
last night."

"Precisely. Now a key, you observe, is intended to open something--in
this case a door. What door? As though that mattered! Put on your
rain-coat, my dear Thorp, and let us begin a little journey into the
unknown. Fate will lead us surely, O unbelieving one, if you will but
place your hand unresistingly in hers."

We left the house, and Indiman tossed a penny into the air. "Broadway,
heads; Fourth Avenue, tails." Tails it was.

Arrived at Fourth Avenue, we stood waiting for a car. The first that
came along was on its way up-town and we boarded it.

"Was it you who asked for a cross-town transfer at Twenty-ninth?"
inquired the conductor of Indiman a few minutes later, and Indiman
nodded assent and took the transfer slips.

At Eighth Avenue the cross-town car was blocked by a stalled coal-cart.
We alighted and passively awaited further directions from our esoteric
guide. Quite an amusing game for a dull, rainy afternoon, and I felt
grateful to Indiman for its invention.

The policeman on the corner was endeavoring to direct a very small boy
with a very large bundle. "Up one block and turn east," he said,
impressively. "I've told you that now three times."

I had a flash of inspiration. "Copper it," I cried.

"Right," said Indiman, soberly. We walked down one block to
Twenty-eighth Street and then