and creeping to the threshold, listened carefully.
Below, a few sounds might be heard,--here, the wail of a child; there,
the shrill scold of a woman in that accent above all others adapted
to scold,--the Irish. Farther down still, the deep bass oath of the
choleric resurrection-man; but above, all was silent. Only one floor
intervened between Grabman's apartment and the ladder that led to Beck's
loft. And the inmates of that room gave no sound of life. Grabman took
courage, and shuffling off his shoes, ascended the stairs; he passed the
closed door of the room above; he seized the ladder with a shaking hand;
he mounted, step after step; he stood in Beck's room.

Now, O Nicholas Grabman! some moralists may be harsh enough to condemn
thee for what thou art doing,--kneeling yonder in the dim light, by that
curtainless pallet, with greedy fingers feeling here and there, and a
placid, self-hugging smile upon thy pale lips. That poor vagabond whom
thou art about to despoil has served thee well and faithfully, has borne
with thine ill-humours, thy sarcasms, thy swearings, thy kicks, and
buffets; often, when in the bestial sleep of drunkenness he has found
thee stretched helpless on thy floor, with a kindly hand he has moved
away the sharp fender, too near that knavish head, now bent on his ruin,
or closed the open window, lest the keen air, that thy breath tainted,
should visit thee with rheum and fever. Small has been his guerdon for
uncomplaining sacrifice of the few hours spared to this weary drudge
from his daily toil,--small, but gratefully received. And if Beck had
been taught to pray, he would have prayed for thee as for a good man,
O miserable sinner! And thou art going now, Nicholas Grabman, upon an
enterprise which promises thee large gains, and thy purse is filled; and
thou wantest nothing for thy wants or thy swinish luxuries. Why should
those shaking fingers itch for the poor beggar-man's hoards?

But hadst thou been bound on an errand that would have given thee a
million, thou wouldst not have left unrifled that secret store which thy
prying eye had discovered, and thy hungry heart had coveted. No; since
one night,--fatal, alas! to the owner of loft and treasure, when,
needing Beck for some service, and fearing to call aloud (for the
resurrection-man in the floor below thee, whose oaths even now ascend to
thine ear, sleeps ill, and has threatened to make thee mute forever
if thou disturbest him in the few night