ods department
to rights, and sweeping, sprinkling, and dusting. A queer thrill of
triumph passed through the watcher as he descried the lamp on Henley's
desk and the unruffled face of the storekeeper in its circle of rays.

Fearing that some passer-by might notice him in front, Bradley climbed
over the fence at the side of the house and crouched down in the yard,
hidden by the shadow of the wall. The village was very still. The
clanging of a near-by church-bell calling the choir to practise for the
Sunday service jarred harshly on Bradley's tense nerves. Pomp was
singing, keeping time with strokes of his broom, and Cahews was
whistling an accompaniment. Bradley waited till the bell had ceased its
clangor, and then, with a step that was almost steady, he glided along
the weather-boarding through the junk-filled yard till he had reached
the open window close to Henley's desk. Henley was still there. He
seemed to be counting money, for he had a bag of coin near him and the
iron safe near by was open. Bradley could see the pigeon-holes and
little drawers with their brass mountings gleaming in the light. He drew
his revolver and cocked it noiselessly and aimed it experimentally at
his intended victim. No better mark could be desired, but the right
moment must be chosen. Bradley looked about him, his befuddled brain
noting this or that obstacle to immediate flight. He must think; he must
make no mistake, for, as his uncle had said, the risk was grave. The
sudden report of a revolver would cause that cottage door to fly open;
Seth Woods at work in his cage-like shop across the street would run
directly over to see what had happened. The loungers at the hotel would
appear, Cahews and Pomp, and, and--Bradley recalled Welborne's reference
to the lynched man, and shuddered. Yes, drunk as he was, he could see
that, easy as the deed was of execution, escape would be most difficult.
He told himself, as he thrust the weapon back into his pocket, that the
centre of the town was no place for work like this, and that later
Henley would have to pass along a lonely road in darkness to get home.
Yes, that was the best plan, he decided, and, creeping back through the
yard, he regained the fence, and, watching his opportunity, he climbed
over into the street and made his way unobserved out into the country
road.

Soon he had reached the point he had in mind. It was, by odd fatality,
the spot where he had received his castigation only a few