a flash I saw my chance. It was a bare chance, no more. But I knew
the ways of the house--I was sure the melon would be brought in over
night and put in the pantry ice-box. If there were only one melon in the
ice-box I could be fairly sure it was the one I wanted. Melons
didn't lie around loose in that house--every one was known, numbered,
catalogued. The old man was beset by the dread that the servants would
eat them, and he took a hundred mean precautions to prevent it. Yes,
I felt pretty sure of my melon... and poisoning was much safer than
shooting. It would have been the devil and all to get into the old man's
bedroom without his rousing the house; but I ought to be able to break
into the pantry without much trouble.

"It was a cloudy night, too--everything served me. I dined quietly, and
sat down at my desk. Kate had one of her usual headaches, and went to
bed early. As soon as she was gone I slipped out. I had got together a
sort of disguise--red beard and queer-looking ulster. I shoved them
into a bag, and went round to the garage. There was no one there but a
half-drunken machinist whom I'd never seen before. That served me, too.
They were always changing machinists, and this new fellow didn't even
bother to ask if the car belonged to me. It was a very easy-going
place...

"Well, I jumped in, ran up Broadway, and let the car go as soon as I was
out of Harlem. Dark as it was, I could trust myself to strike a sharp
pace. In the shadow of a wood I stopped a second and got into the beard
and ulster. Then away again--it was just eleven-thirty when I got to
Wrenfield.

"I left the car in a dark lane behind the Lenman place, and slipped
through the kitchen-garden. The melon-houses winked at me through the
dark--I remember thinking that they knew what I wanted to know.... By
the stable a dog came out growling--but he nosed me out, jumped on me,
and went back... The house was as dark as the grave. I knew everybody
went to bed by ten. But there might be a prowling servant--the
kitchen-maid might have come down to let in her Italian. I had to
risk that, of course. I crept around by the back door and hid in the
shrubbery. Then I listened. It was all as silent as death. I crossed
over to the house, pried open the pantry window and climbed in. I had a
little electric lamp in my pocket, and shielding it with my cap I
groped my way to the ice-box, opened it--and there was the little French
melon... only one.

"I stopped