shortly,
"but I mean to stop now. We have higher game to fly at. Now, with
regard to the tests. I have not been idle I can assure you. I have
secured all the requisites. The mirror and black cat I--well, er--to
use a conventionalism that comes in rather handy--the mirror and
cat--I picked up. The skull I borrowed from a medical I know--the
moth--er--from some one's private collection--and the elderberries,
hemlock and chemicals I obtained from a drug store man in Battery
Street with whom I used to deal. The moon will be full to-night so
that we may as well begin. Will you come round to my room at
eleven-thirty?"

They promised; and Hamar, as he took his departure, again glanced at
the handsome fur coat hanging on the door.

He was hardly out of hearing when Curtis looked across at Kelson. "Do
you think he recognised it!" he whispered. "You may bet he did, and he
had only just stolen it himself! However, it's his own fault. He told
us to lie and steal, and we've done his bidding."

"We have indeed!" Kelson sighed; "at least you have. For my part I'd
rather be content with food!"

"Well, I needed clothes just as much as food!" Curtis snarled. "If I
went about naked I should only be sent to prison--that's the law. It
punishes you for taking clothes, and it punishes you for going without
them. There's logic for you!"

Curtis and Kelson spent the rest of the day indoors; and at night
sallied forth to Hamar's.

The solitary attic--if one could thus designate a space of about three
square feet--which comprised Hamar's lodging--had the advantage of
being situated in the top storey of a skyscraper--at least a
skyscraper for that part of the city. From its window could be seen,
high above the serried ranks of chimney-pots on the opposite side of
the street, those two newly erected buildings: William Carman's chewing
gum factory in Hearnes Street, and Mark Goddard's eight-storied
private residence in Van Ness Avenue; and, as if this were not enough
architectural grace for the eye to dwell on, glimmering away to the
right was the needle-like spire of Moss Bates's devil-dodging
establishment in Branman Street; whilst, just behind it, in saucy
mocking impudence, peeped out the gilded roof of the Knee Brothers'
recently erected Cinematograph Palace.

All this and more--much more--was to be seen from Hamar's outlook, and
all for the sum of one dollar and a half per week. When Curtis and
Kelson entered, the room was aglow with